Aylmer to confide in her
more. Perhaps he was slipping away from her--she would have been only a
little incident in his existence--while she certainly wished it to go
on. Seeing this, perhaps it oughtn't to go on. She wondered if he would
laugh or be serious today... whether...

* * * * *

Miss Bennett had come up in the lift with a heap of cardboard boxes,
and the azalea. A taxi was waiting at the door.

Edith opened the boxes, cutting the string with scissors. She put four
gowns out on the sofa. Grace explained that two were cloaks, two were
gowns--all she could get.

'That's the one,' said Edith, taking out one of a deep blue colour,
like an Italian sky on a coloured picture post-card. It had a collar of
the same deep blue, spotted with white--a birdseye effect. Taking off
her coat Edith slipped the gown over her dress, and went to her room
(followed closely by Miss Bennett) to see herself in the long mirror.

'Perfect!' said Edith. 'Only I must cut off those buttons. I hate
buttons.'

'How are you going to fasten it, then, dear?'

'With hooks and eyes. Marie can sew them on.'

The deep blue with the white spots had a vivid and charming effect, and
suited her blonde colouring; she saw she was very pretty in it, and was
pleased.

'Aren't you going to try the others on, dear?' asked Grace.

'No; what's the good? This one will do.'

'Right. Then I'll take them back.'

'You're sweet. Won't you come back to lunch?'

'I'll come back to lunch tomorrow,' said Miss Bennett, 'and you can
tell me about your tea-party. Oh, and here's a little bit of stuff for
the plant. I suppose you'll put the azalea into the large pewter vase?'

'Yes, and I'll tie this round its neck.'

'Sorry it's cotton,' said Miss Bennett. 'I couldn't get any silk the
right colour.'

'Oh, I like cotton, if only it's not called sateen! Good-bye, darling.
You're delightfully quick!'

'Yes, I don't waste time,' said Miss Bennett. 'Mother says, too, that
I'm the best shopper in the world.' She turned round to add, 'I'm dying
to know why you want to look so pretty. Who is it?'

With a quiet smile, Edith dismissed her.

CHAPTER XI

P.P.C.

'It always seems to me so unlike you,' Aylmer said (he had arrived
punctually at twenty minutes to four)--'your extreme fondness for
newspapers. You're quite celebrated as a collector of Last Editions,
aren't you?'

'I know it's very unliterary of me, but I enjoy r