Lola read these words over again and again. Windsor was impossible. Even the trip to Wimbleton Common could not be made. But how was this going to affect the Carlton at seven-thirty? She longed above all things once more to get into the clothes and the proper social surroundings of Madame de Brézé, and hear people talking what had become her own language and listen to the music of a good orchestra. She felt that she deserved another adventure with Chalfont. This erratic twist by Lady Feo, whose movements seemed that week-end to resemble those of the woodcock, shattered all these plans. At least,—did they? Not if she knew it. “Well, there it is,” she said and gave the telegram to Ernest Treadwell, who had been watching her face with the most painful anxiety. “She who must be obeyed. I’m afraid this means that all we can do is to wander about for a couple of hours and that our little jaunt to Windsor must be postponed. And we never went to Hampton Court to see the crocuses, did we? Bad luck.” But while she was speaking, her brain was hitting all its cylinders and racing ahead. She would go to the Carlton, Lady Feo or no Lady Feo. She would get her dress from Mrs. Rumbold, with her shoes and stockings, and take them to Dover Street. She would have to dress at Dover Street, bribe Ellen to get her a taxicab and slip down at twelve o’clock to let her in to the area door. That must be the plan of action, whatever the risks might be. She sprang to her feet and flung an arm round her father’s neck,—her disappointed, affectionate father who had looked forward to a merry evening at the local music hall and to one of the old-time Sundays when he could march out in his best clothes and show off Lola to the neighbors. “It’s life, Daddy,” she said. “It can’t be helped. You have your wrist watches. I have Lady Feo. What’s the good of grumbling? Tell Mother when you get the chance. At the moment she is busy and mustn’t be disturbed. Come on, Ernest, let’s go.” But Ernest had other views, now that the country was impossible. “I’ve got something in my pocket I want to read to you,” he said. “Might we go up to the drawing-room, do you think?” That was excellent. That made things ever so much easier. She could give Ernest until four o’clock or a little after and then get rid of him, go round to Mrs. Rumbold and get eventually to Dover Street in time to have everything ready for Lady Feo on her arrival.