Of course, as they pointed out to each other, they could reduce the rent to an almost negligible sum by increasing the number of sharers; they could have six more ladies instead of two if they wanted to, seeing that there were eight beds. But supposing the eight beds were distributed in couples in four rooms, it would not be altogether what they wanted, to find themselves shut up at night with a stranger. Besides, they thought that perhaps having so many would not be quite so peaceful. After all, they were going to San Salvatore for peace and rest and joy, and six more ladies, especially if they got into one’s bedroom, might a little interfere with that. speech first However, there seemed to be only two ladies in England at that moment who had any wish to join them, for they had only two answers to their advertisement. “Well, we only want two,” said Mrs. Wilkins, quickly recovering, for she had imagined a great rush. “I think a choice would have been a good thing,” said Mrs. Arbuthnot. “You mean because then we needn’t have had Lady Caroline Dester.” “I didn’t say that,” gently protested Mrs. Arbuthnot. “We needn’t have her,” said Mrs. Wilkins. “Just one more person would help us a great deal with the rent. We’re not obliged to have two.” “But why should we not have her? She seems really quite what we want.” “Yes—she does from her letter,” said Mrs. Wilkins doubtfully. She felt she would be terribly shy of Lady Caroline. Incredible as it may seem, seeing how they get into everything, Mrs. Wilkins had never come across any members of the aristocracy. They interviewed Lady Caroline, and they interviewed the other applicant, a Mrs. Fisher. Lady Caroline came to the club in Shaftesbury Avenue, and appeared to be wholly taken up by one great longing, a longing to get away from everybody she had ever known. When she saw the club, and Mrs. Arbuthnot, and Mrs. Wilkins, she was sure that here was exactly what she wanted. She would be in Italy—a place she adored; she would not be in hotels—places she loathed; she would not be staying with friends—persons she disliked; and she would be in the company of strangers who would never mention a single person she knew, for the simple reason that they had not, could not have, and would not come across them. She asked a few questions about the fourth woman, and was satisfied with the answers. Mrs. Fisher, of Prince of Wales Terrace. A widow. She too would be unacquainted with any of her friends. Lady Caroline did not even know where Prince of Wales Terrace was. “It’s in London,” said Mrs. Arbuthnot. “Is it?” said Lady Caroline. It all seemed most restful. Mrs. Fisher was unable to come to the club because, she explained by letter, she could not walk without a stick; therefore Mrs. Arbuthnot and Mrs. Wilkins went to her. “But if she can’t come to the club how can she go to Italy?” wondered Mrs. Wilkins, aloud. “We shall hear that from her own lips,” said Mrs. Arbuthnot.