“Dear Marcia,” she said. “I felt it must be an oversight from the first, but naturally, Georgie, though she and I are such friends, I could not dream of reminding her. What a blessing that my delicious day at Riseholme has so rested me: I feel I could go to fifty balls without fatigue. Such a wonderful house, Georgie; when you come up to stay with us in the autumn, I must take you there. Pepino, is it not lucky that I only brought down here just enough for a couple of nights, and left everything in London to pick up as we came through to go to Adele’s? What a sight it will be, all the Royal Family almost I believe, and the whole of the Diplomatic corps: my Gioconda, I know, is going. Not a large ball though at all: not one of those great promiscuous affairs, which I hate so. How dear Marcia was besieged for invitations! how vulgar people are and how pushing! Good-bye, mind you practise your Mozart, Georgie. Oh, and tell Daisy that I sha’n’t be able to have another of those delicious puttings with her to-morrow. Back on Tuesday after the week-end at Adele’s, and then weeks and weeks of dear Riseholme. How long they are! I will just go and hurry my maid up.” Georgie tripped off, as soon as she had gone, to see Daisy, and narrated to her open-mouthed disgust this amazing scene. “And the question is,” he said, “about the complete rest that was ordered her. I don’t believe she was ordered any rest at all. I believe----” Daisy gave a triumphant crow: inductive reasoning had led her to precisely the same point at precisely the same moment. “Why, of course!” she said. “I always felt there was something behind that complete rest. I told you it meant something different. She wasn’t asked, and so----” “And so she came down here for rest,” said Georgie in a loud voice. He was determined to bring that out first. “Because she wasn’t asked----” “And the moment she was asked she flew,” said Daisy. “Nothing could be plainer. No more rest, thank you.” “She’s wonderful,” said Georgie. “Too interesting!” * * * * * Lucia sped through the summer evening on this errand of her own reprieve, too excited to eat, and too happy to wonder how it had happened like this. How wise, too, she had been to hold her tongue and give way to no passionate laments at her exclusion from the paradise toward which she was now hastening. Not one word of abuse had she uttered against Marcia: she had asked nobody to intercede: she had joined in all the talk about the ball as if she was going, and finally had made it impossible for herself to go by announcing that she had been ordered a few days of complete rest. She could (and would) explain her appearance perfectly: she had felt much better--doctors were such fussers--and at the last moment had made just a little effort, and here she was.