“I saw her announcement in the _Morning Post_,” said the infuriated Marcia, “that she had gone for a few days’ complete rest into the country, and naturally I thought I was safe. I was determined she shouldn’t come to my ball, and when I saw that, I thought she couldn’t. So out of sheer good nature I sent her a card, so that she could tell everybody she had been asked. Never did I dream that there was a possibility of her coming. Instead of which, she made the most conspicuous entry that she could have made. I believe she timed it: I believe she waited on the stairs till she saw we were going down to supper.” “I wonder!” said Adele. “Genius, if it was that. She curtseyed seven times, too. I can’t do that without loud cracks from my aged knees.” “And she stopped till the very end,” said Marcia. “She was positively the last to go. I shall never do a kind thing again.” “You’re horrid about her,” said Adele. “Besides, what has she done? You asked her and she came. You don’t rave at your guests for coming when they’re asked. You wouldn’t like it if none of them came.” “That’s different,” said Marcia. “I shouldn’t wonder if she announced she was ordered complete rest in order that I should fall into her trap.” Adele sighed, but shook her head. “Oh, my dear, that _would_ have been magnificent,” she said. “But I’m afraid I can’t hope to believe that. I daresay she went into the country because you hadn’t asked her, and that was pretty good. But the other: no. However, we’ll ask Tony what he thinks.” “What’s Tony got to do with it?” said Marcia. “Why, he’s even more wrapped up in her than I am,” said Adele. “He thinks of nothing else.” Marcia was silent a moment. Then a sort of softer gleam came into her angry eye. “Tell me some more about her,” she said. Adele clapped her hands. “Ah, that’s splendid,” she said. “You’re beginning to feel kinder. What we would do without our Lucia I can’t imagine. I don’t know what there would be to talk about.” “She’s ridiculous!” said Marcia relapsing a little. “No, you mustn’t feel that,” said Adele. “You mustn’t laugh at her ever. You must just richly enjoy her.” “She’s a snob!” said Marcia, as if this was a tremendous discovery. “So am I: so are you: so are we all,” said Adele. “We all run after distinguished people like--like Alf and Marcelle. The difference between you and Lucia is entirely in her favour, for you pretend you’re not a snob, and she is perfectly frank and open about it. Besides, what is a duchess like you for except to give pleasure to snobs? That’s your work in the world, darling; that’s why you were sent here. Don’t shirk it, or when you’re old you will suffer agonies of remorse. And you’re a snob too. You like having seven--or was it seventy?--Royals at your dance.” “Well, tell me some more about Lucia,” said Marcia, rather struck by this ingenious presentation of the case.