Impatient for movement, she that evening went to the splendid house in Pilchester Square to tell her withdrawal. This most exasperating dis-ease of hers! Now that she was come to change her mind she did not want to change her mind. It was like going to the dentist with an aching tooth. On his doorstep the tooth does not ache. Her governance of herself was by her malaise so shaken that positively, as she came into Aunt Belle’s presence, she did not know whether she was going to withdraw or to confirm her acceptance of the invitation. Most comfortingly, Aunt Belle saved her the decision. “My dear child! How unexpected! How opportune! I was just writing to you. Our little dinner is put off! Sit here while I tell you. Now would you like anything, dear child? A piece of cake? Some nice fruit? To please me. Really, no? Well, now; our dinner that I so especially wanted you for--did you guess?” She began to tell. She told what Rosalie had perfectly well known. The delightful thing expected to happen was Harry Occleve’s proposal of marriage to darling Laetitia. There had been certain signs and portents. They had come at last. Their meaning was perfectly clear. There was not the least doubt that at the next meeting Harry would ask Laetitia’s hand. Not the shadow of a doubt! Aunt Belle knew all the signs! Every woman of Aunt Belle’s experience knew them, dear child. So Harry had been asked for this dinner; a meaningly written letter, dear child, to encourage him, the dear, poor fellow! And had accepted, in terms so meaning too, the dear, devoted fellow. Then-- “But, Aunt Belle--” “Listen, dear child. Then he suddenly wrote saying he found he had made a mistake--” “Made a mistake!” The words went out from Rosalie in a small cry.