Lucia gave a swift scrutiny to the rest of the collection, so as to be able to recognize them all without reference to her catalogue, when she came back, as she intended to do later in the morning. There was hardly anyone here at present, but the place would certainly be crowded an hour before lunch time, and she proposed to make a _soi-disant_ first visit then, and know at once whom all the caricatures represented (for Bertie in his enthusiasm for caricature sometimes omitted likenesses), and go into peals of laughter at those of herself and Pepino, and say she must buy them, which of course she had already done. Stephen remained behind, for Hermione was going to say a good deal about the exhibition, but promised to wait till Lucia came back. She had not shown the smallest sign of amorousness this morning. His apprehensions were considerably relieved, and it looked as if no storm of emotion was likely to be required of him. “Hundreds of things to do!” she said. “Let me see, half-past eleven, twelve--yes, I shall be back soon after twelve, and we’ll have a real look at them. And you’ll lunch? Just a few people coming.” Before Lucia got back, the gallery had got thick with visitors, and Hermione was busy noting those whom he saw chatting with friends or looking lovely, or being very pleased with the new house in Park Lane, or receiving congratulations on the engagement of a daughter. There was no doubt which of the pictures excited most interest, and soon there was a regular _queue_ waiting to look at Numbers 39 and 40. People stood in front of them regarding them gravely and consulting their catalogues and then bursting into loud cracks of laughter and looking again till the growing weight of the _queue_ dislodged them. One of those who lingered longest and stood her ground best was Adele, who, when she was eventually shoved on, ran round to the tail of the _queue_ and herself shoved till she got opposite again. She saw Stephen. “Ah, then Lucia won’t be far off,” she observed archly. “Doesn’t she adore it? Where is Lucia?” “She’s been, but she’s coming back,” he said. “I expect her every minute. Ah! there she is.” This was rather stupid of Stephen. He ought to have guessed that Lucia’s second appearance was officially intended to be her first. He grasped that when she squeezed her way through the crowd and greeted him as if they had not met before that morning. “And dearest Adele,” she said. “What a crush! Tell me quickly, where are the caricatures of Pepino and me? I’m dying to see them; and when I see them no doubt I shall wish I was dead.” The light of Luciaphilism came into Adele’s intelligent eyes. “We’ll look for them together,” she said. “Ah thirty-nine and forty. They must be somewhere just ahead.” Lucia exerted a steady indefatigable pressure on those in front, and presently came into range.