“Good heavens!” she said. “To think that I once thought that it was a quiet back-watery place where I could rest and do nothing but study. But it’s a whirl! There’s always something wildly exciting going on. Oh, what fools people are not to take an interest in what they call little things. Now go on about Lucia. It’s his aunt, isn’t it, and mad?” “Yes, and Pepino’s been left her house in Brompton Square,” began Georgie. “No! That’s where I’ve taken a house for the season. What number?” “Twenty-five,” said Georgie. “Twenty-five?” said Olga. “Why, that’s just where the curve begins. And a big----” “Music-room built out at the back,” said Georgie. “I’m almost exactly opposite. But mine’s a small one. Just room for my husband and me, and one spare room. Go on quickly.” “And about three thousand a year and some pearls,” said Georgie. “And the house is full of beautiful furniture.” “And will they sell it?” “Nothing settled,” said Georgie. “That means you think they won’t. Do you think that they’ll settle altogether in London?” “No, I don’t think that,” said Georgie very carefully. “You are tactful. Lucia has told you all about it, but has also said firmly that nothing’s settled. So I won’t pump you. And I met Colonel Boucher on my way here. Why only one bull-dog?” “Because the other always growled so frightfully at Mrs. Boucher. He gave it away to his brother.” “And Daisy Quantock? Is it still spiritualism?” “No; that’s over, though I rather think it’s coming back. After that it was sour milk, and now it’s raw vegetables. You’ll see to-morrow at dinner. She brings them in a paper bag. Carrots and turnips and celery. Raw. But perhaps she may not. Every now and then she eats like anybody else.” “And Piggy and Goosie?” “Just the same. But Mrs. Antrobus has got a new ear-trumpet. But what I want to know is, why did Lucia send across for my manual on Auction Bridge? She thinks all card-games imbecile.” “Oh, Georgie, that’s easy!” said Olga. “Why, of course, Brompton Square, though nothing’s settled. Parties, you know, when she wants people who like to play Bridge.” Georgie became deeply thoughtful. “It might be that,” he said. “But it would be tremendously thorough.” “How else can you account for it? By the way, I’ve had a listening-in put up at Old Place.” “I know. I saw them at it yesterday. But don’t turn it on to-morrow night. Lucia hates it. She only heard it once, and that time it was a lecture on pyorrhœa. Now tell me about yourself. And shall we go into the drawing-room? Foljambe’s getting restless.” Olga allowed herself to be weaned from subjects so much more entrancing to her, and told him of the huge success of the American tour, and spoke of the eight weeks’ season which was to begin at Covent Garden in the middle of May. But it all led back to Riseholme.