Rodney and I were delighted to hear from Lavinia that you were so well and in such good spirits when she saw you at the weekend. We have been hoping to come and see you for the last few weeks, but Rodney has been very busy, and I have had a great deal on my hands since the wedding. I've been supervising Hugh's and Jessica's house being got ready for them among other things. They come home on Tuesday evidently very happy, and quite sure that no couple ever had a honeymoon like theirs. I have a little plan for them which I do hope you will try and fall in with, as it will be no good at all without you. Aunt Sarah is to be in town next week I hear, staying with her own relations, and I think it would be such a good idea if you would come up for one night for a little dinner party. Just the family of course. Do you realise that there are now six Mrs. Greenes? You and Aunt Sarah, Dora and myself, and the two children, Helen and Jessica. I think Friday week would be best. Rodney will come himself to fetch you in the car, and you can have a long rest before dinner, and motor home on Saturday. Now don't say no, I have really set my heart on having a reunion of the three generations. Rodney sends his love and is hoping to see you. Much love from EDITH. Miss Dorset read this through carefully, reflected for a moment and then said decisively: "I don't think it would be wise for you to go, Mrs. Greene; you've been very easily tired the last few weeks, and this time of year is trying. Will you not dictate a letter for Mrs. Rodney saying you don't feel able to accept her invitation?" "I don't call that an invitation," said Mrs. Greene forcibly. "More like a command. My daughter-in-law arranges everything for everybody and sends them their instructions." Her voice lost its vibration and dropped on a flat note as she added: "It's easier to fall in with her plans, than to hold out against them; I'm getting old. And perhaps it will please Rodney to have me in his house again, though it's more hers than his." A long silence fell. Miss Dorset had no comment to offer and Mrs. Greene was obviously immersed in painful thoughts. Suddenly she roused herself and leaned forward, speaking with such calmness and certainty that her words borrowed the force of oratory. "When a woman has lived with her husband and loved her husband for over fifty years, she shouldn't live on after him. She's only a cripple. There's no place left for her, and no power. I saw one of my sons marry a girl I didn't like, and the other a girl I despised. I lost Edwin in the War, and Edwin's son soon after. Geoffrey and I were old; we were on the shelf, but we still had our place in life. Now Geoffrey's dead and I'm lost. I'm Granny and Greatgranny; I'm an old woman to be humoured and treated kindly and encouraged and taken here and there for her own good, but I'm not Mrs. Geoffrey Greene. She's dead."