'And might I kindly ask,' said Miss Bennett, getting up, 'any particular reason for all this? Are you going to have the flu, or a party, or what?' 'No,' said Edith, who was always frank when it was possible. 'I'm expecting a visitor who's never seen me in anything but a coat and skirt, or in evening dress.' 'Oh! He wants a change, does he?' 'Don't be vulgar, Grace. Thanks awfully, dear. You're really kind.' They both laughed, and Edith gently pushed her friend out of the room. Then she sat down on a sofa, put up her feet, and began to read _Rhythm_ to divert her thoughts. Vincy had brought it to convert her to Post-Impressionism. When Archie and Dilly were out, and Edith, who always got up rather early, was alone, she often passed her morning hours in reading, dreaming, playing the piano, or even in thinking. She was one of the few women who really can think, and enjoy it. This morning she soon put down the mad clever little prophetic Oxford journal. Considering she was usually the most reposeful woman in London, she was rather restless today. She glanced round the little room; there was nothing in it to distract or irritate, or even to suggest a train of thought; except perhaps the books; everything was calming and soothing, with a touch of gaiety in the lightness of the wall decorations. An azalea, certainly, would be a good note. The carpet, and almost everything in the room, was green, except the small white enamelled piano. Today she felt that she wanted to use all her influence to get Aylmer to confide in her more. Perhaps he was slipping away from her--she would have been only a little incident in his existence--while she certainly wished it to go on. Seeing this, perhaps it oughtn't to go on. She wondered if he would laugh or be serious today... whether... * * * * * Miss Bennett had come up in the lift with a heap of cardboard boxes, and the azalea. A taxi was waiting at the door. Edith opened the boxes, cutting the string with scissors. She put four gowns out on the sofa. Grace explained that two were cloaks, two were gowns--all she could get. 'That's the one,' said Edith, taking out one of a deep blue colour, like an Italian sky on a coloured picture post-card. It had a collar of the same deep blue, spotted with white--a birdseye effect. Taking off her coat Edith slipped the gown over her dress, and went to her room (followed closely by Miss Bennett) to see herself in the long mirror. 'Perfect!' said Edith. 'Only I must cut off those buttons. I hate buttons.' 'How are you going to fasten it, then, dear?' 'With hooks and eyes. Marie can sew them on.' The deep blue with the white spots had a vivid and charming effect, and suited her blonde colouring; she saw she was very pretty in it, and was pleased. 'Aren't you going to try the others on, dear?' asked Grace. 'No; what's the good? This one will do.' 'Right. Then I'll take them back.' 'You're sweet. Won't you come back to lunch?'