"It was a nuisance," said Mrs. Harding, "that we asked the Warden of King's when the Bishop was here and got a refusal. We can't ask the Dashwoods and Miss Scott even quietly. It's for the Warden to ask us." "Anyhow ask Bingham," said Harding; "just casually." Mrs. Harding looked surprised. "Why, I thought you couldn't stick him," she said; "and he hasn't been near us for a couple of years at least." "Yes, but----" "Very well," said Mrs. Harding. "And meanwhile I've got Lady Dashwood to lend me Miss Scott for our Sale to-morrow! And shall I ask them to tea? We are so near that it would seem the natural thing to do." CHAPTER X PARENTAL EFFUSIONS "Well, May," said Lady Dashwood, leaning back into her corner and speaking in a voice of satisfaction, "we've done our duty, I hope, and now, if you don't mind, we'll go on doing our duty and pay some calls. I ought to call at St. John's and Wadham, and also go into the suburbs. I've asked Mr. Bingham to dinner--just by ourselves, of course. Do you know what his nickname is in Oxford?" May did not know. "It is: 'It depends on what you mean,'" said Lady Dashwood. "Oh!" said May. "Yes, in the Socratic manner." "I dare say," said Lady Dashwood. "What did you think of the Hardings?" May said she didn't know. "They are a type one finds everywhere," said Lady Dashwood. The afternoon passed slowly away. It was the busy desolation of the city, a willing sacrifice to the needs of war, that made both May and Lady Dashwood sit so silently as they went first to Wadham, and then, round through the noble wide expanse of Market Square opposite St. John's. Then later on out into the interminable stretch of villas beyond. By the time they returned to the Lodgings the grey afternoon light had faded into darkness. "Any letters?" asked Lady Dashwood, as Robinson relieved them of their wraps. Yes, there were letters awaiting them, and they had been put on the table in the middle of the hall; there was a wire also. The wire was from the Warden, saying that he would not be back to dinner. "He's coming later," said Lady Dashwood, aloud. "Late, May!" "Oh!" said May Dashwood. There was a letter for Gwen. It was lying by itself and addressed in her mother's handwriting. She laid her hand upon it and hurried up to her room. Lady Dashwood went upstairs slowly to the drawing-room. "H'm, one from Belinda," she said to herself, "asking me to keep Gwen longer, I suppose, on some absurd excuse! Well, I won't do it; she shall go on Monday." She turned up the electric light and seated herself on a couch at one side of the fire. She glanced through the other letters, leaving the one from Belinda to the last.