“By addition,” said this annoying man. “There’ll be every penny of that. I was at the lending library after lunch, and those who could add made it all that.” Daisy turned to Georgie. “You’ll be alone with Lucia then to-night,” she said. “Oh, I knew that,” said Georgie. “She told me Pepino had gone. I expect he’s sleeping in that house to-night.” Mr. Quantock produced his calculations, and the argument waxed hot. It was still raging when Georgie left in order to get a little rest before going on to dinner, and to practise the Mozart duet. He and Lucia hadn’t tried it before, so it was as well to practise both parts, and let her choose which she liked. Foljambe had come back from her afternoon out, and told him that there had been a trunk call for him while he was at tea, but she could make nothing of it. “Somebody in a great hurry, sir,” she said, “and kept asking if I was--excuse me, sir, if I was Georgie--I kept saying I wasn’t, but I’d fetch you. That wouldn’t do, and she said she’d telegraph.” “But who was it?” asked Georgie. “Couldn’t say, sir. She never gave a name, but only kept asking.” “She?” asked Georgie. “Sounded like one!” said Foljambe. “Most mysterious,” said Georgie. It couldn’t be either of his sisters, for they sounded not like a she but a he. So he lay down on his sofa to rest a little before he took a turn at the Mozart. * * * * * The evening had turned chilly, and he put on his blue cape with the velvet collar to trot across to Lucia’s house. The parlour-maid received him with a faint haggard smile of recognition, and then grew funereal again, and preceding him, not at her usual brisk pace, but sadly and slowly, opened the door of the music-room and pronounced his name in a mournful whisper. It was a gay cheerful room, in the ordinary way; now only one light was burning, and from the deepest of the shadows, there came a rustling, and Lucia rose to meet him. “Georgie, dear,” she said. “Good of you.” Georgie held her hand a moment longer than was usual, and gave it a little extra pressure for the conveyance of sympathy. Lucia, to acknowledge that, pressed a little more, and Georgie tightened his grip again to show that he understood, until their respective finger-nails grew white with the conveyance and reception of sympathy. It was rather agonizing, because a bit of skin on his little finger had got caught between two of the rings on his third finger, and he was glad when they quite understood each other. Of course it was not to be expected that in these first moments Lucia should notice his trousers. She herself was dressed in deep mourning, and Georgie thought he recognized the little cap she wore as being that which had faintly expressed her grief over the death of Queen Victoria. But black suited her, and she certainly looked very well. Dinner was announced immediately, and she took Georgie’s arm, and with faltering steps they went into the dining-room.