Georgie had determined that his rôle was to be sympathetic, but bracing. Lucia must rally from this blow, and her suggestion that he should bring the Mozart duet was hopeful. And though her voice was low and unsteady, she did say, as they sat down, “Any news?” “I’ve hardly been outside my house and garden all day,” said Georgie. “Rolling the lawn. And Daisy Quantock--did you know?--has had a row with her gardener, and is going to do it all herself. So there she was next door with a fork and a wheelbarrow full of manure.” Lucia gave a wan smile. “Dear Daisy!” she said. “What a garden it will be! Anything else?” “Yes, I had tea with them, and while I was out, there was a trunk-call for me. So tarsome. Whoever it was couldn’t make any way, and she’s going to telegraph. I can’t imagine who it was.” “I wonder!” said Lucia in an interested voice. Then she recollected herself again. “I had a sort of presentiment, Georgie, when I saw that telegram for Pepino on the table, two days ago, that it was bad news.” “Curious,” said Georgie. “And what delicious fish! How do you always manage to get better things than any of us? It tastes of the sea. And I am so hungry after all my work.” Lucia went firmly on. “I took it to poor Pepino,” she said, “and he got quite white. And then--so like him--he thought of me. ‘It’s bad news, darling,’ he said, ‘and we’ve got to help each other to bear it!’” “So like Pepino,” said Georgie. “Mr. Quantock saw him going to the station. Where is he going to sleep to-night?” Lucia took a little more fish. “In Auntie’s house in Brompton Square,” she said. “So _that’s_ where it is!” thought Georgie. If there was a light anywhere in Daisy’s house, except in the attics, he would have to go in for a minute, on his return home, and communicate the news. “Oh, she had a house there, had she?” he said. “Yes, a charming house,” said Lucia, “and full, of course, of dear old memories to Pepino. It will be very trying for him, for he used to go there when he was a boy to see Auntie.” “And has she left it him?” asked Georgie, trying to make his voice sound unconcerned. “Yes, and it’s a freehold,” said Lucia. “That makes it easier to dispose of if Pepino settles to sell it. And beautiful Queen Anne furniture.” “My dear, how delicious!” said Georgie. “Probably worth a fortune.” Lucia was certainly rallying from the terrible blow, but she did not allow herself to rally too far, and shook her head sadly. “Pepino would hate to have to part with Auntie’s things,” she said. “So many memories. He can recollect her sitting at the walnut bureau (one of those tall ones, you know, which let down in front, and the handles of the drawers all original), doing her accounts in the morning. And a picture of her with her pearls over the fireplace by Sargent; quite an early one. Some fine Chinese Chippendale chairs in the dining-room. We must try to keep some of the things.”