Lady Hampshire had several other clients to write to, and it was time (when she had finished this correspondence, and put it through the secret door at the back of her bedroom closet to be collected and posted by grim Magsby) to exchange her dressing-gown for the habiliments of lunch and civilization. A new costume had come for her from Paquin’s that morning, and as she was to go to two charity bazaars, a matinée, and as many tea-parties as there was time for between the end of the matinée and the early dinner which was to precede another theatre and a couple of balls, she decided to wear this sumptuous creation. Anything new, provided the point of it was not to be old, put this mercurial lady into excellent humour, and she set out for lunch, which was only just across the square, not more than half an hour late, looking, as the representative of a fashion-paper who was standing at the corner on the chance of seeing her told her readers the following Saturday, “very smart and well-gowned.” She knew she was certain to meet friends, since that always happened; and by the time she took her seat next her host, finding lunch already half-over, she had quite dismissed from her mind the trouble of poor Miss Ainslie. “But how delicious to see food again,” she said as she sat down. “I was so afraid lunch-time was never coming that I didn’t recognize it when it came.” “And we were afraid that you were never coming, dear Cynthia,” said the Duchess of Camber. “I know; I am late. But as I always am late, it is the same as if I was punctual. The really unpunctual people are those who sometimes are late and sometimes not. Colonel Ascot has the other punctuality; he is always in time.” Cynthia looked round the table. There were but half a dozen guests, but all these were old friends, and by a not uncommon coincidence half of them were clients of Agatha, while the Duchess of Camber, so Lady Hampshire knew, was quite likely to become one, for she had lately taken to doing her shopping at Mason’s Stores, and spent a long time over it. Colonel Ascot glanced, apparently with purpose, at the Louis XVI. clock that stood on the mantelpiece. “One wastes a lot of time if one is punctual,” he said. “But, after all, one has all the time there is.” “But there isn’t enough, though one has it all!” said Lady Hampshire. “To-day, for instance, would have to be doubled, as one doubles at bridge, if I was to do all I have promised to.” “But you won’t, dear, so it doesn’t matter,” said the Duchess. “In any case, there is always time for what one wants to do, and one can omit the rest. I always thought my time was completely taken up, but I find I can do my own shopping at Mason’s as well. I buy soap and candles and sealing-wax, and take them home in the motor.” “But not every morning?” asked Lady Hampshire, beginning to attend violently.