"This is Lexie. Isn’t she lovely? You know she is;" and then with a certain dubiousness: "My Fred.... _Do_ like him. Surely you must think him handsome." "Delighted to meet any friend of Maggy’s," said Woolf cordially. "Been a long time coming round, haven’t you?" Alexandra instantly resented the unnecessary familiarity he put into his tone, but for Maggy’s sake she refrained from showing it. Woolf was no better and no worse than she had expected to find him. He was merely vulgar, from the salmon-pink handkerchief in his breast-pocket to the too-valuable pin in his tie. "I came as soon as I was asked," she answered equably. "Maggy and I are old friends. There’s no reason why I should keep away from her." "Of course, there isn’t. Only Maggy thought you didn’t approve of—this little show." He waved his arm round the room. "It’s a dear little flat. I like it very much." Woolf laughed loudly. "The flat’s all right. Perhaps I should have said our little ménage à deux. There’s no harm in it. Everybody’s doing it, aren’t they, Maggy? Come along to lunch, you girls." If Alexandra could have run away then and there she would have done so. She guessed what she was in for. Maggy was looking nervous. She wanted Alexandra and Fred to "get on," to like each other. She had done her best to make her lover avoid the sort of conversation Alexandra would not like. She was dreadfully afraid he was going to spoil it all. As Woolf led the way down to the restaurant she slipped behind and whispered: "Lexie, don’t be shocked if Fred talks a bit. I’ve told him not to because you don’t like it; but if he forgets—" Alexandra gave her arm a little squeeze. It heartened her. Her adoring eyes went to the big figure, striding on in front of them. "Doesn’t he look a dear?" she asked. "Could I _help_ it? Fancy him wanting me!" Her abjectness was a revelation to Alexandra. She had not conceived it possible that cheeky, masterful Maggy, could have surrendered her independence so completely. In this man’s company she was quieter, more subdued, ever watchful to please, to laugh when he laughed—a little too much perhaps, too ready to applaud his most commonplace remarks as witticisms, his untasteful jokes as gems of wit. She had a mind of her own. She hardly showed it. His assertive manhood seemed to have swamped her personality. All the time she was considering him. He scarcely considered her at all. Conversation did not run freely during the first part of the meal. Woolf wanted to shine in Alexandra’s eyes as a good host. He showed it by bullying the waiters over trivialities, until she began to feel quite uncomfortable. His was not the quietly assertive tone of the man who knows what he wants and how to order it. It was obvious to the very attendants themselves that he blustered in order to draw attention to his importance, just as he would tip excessively and yet argue over a trifling item on the bill.