omnibus for the Army and Navy Stores: she wanted to do
some shopping before going down to Sawston.

"Did you read any of the Essays?"

"Every one. Delightful. Couldn't put them down. Now and then he spoilt
them by statistics--but you should read his descriptions of Nature. He
agrees with you: says the hills and trees are alive! Aunt Emily called
you his spiritual heir, which I thought nice of her. We both so lamented
that you have stopped writing." She quoted fragments of the Essays as
they went up in the Stores' lift.

"What else did you talk about?"

"I've told you all my news. Now for yours. Let's have tea first."

They sat down in the corridor amid ladies in every stage of
fatigue--haggard ladies, scarlet ladies, ladies with parcels that
twisted from every finger like joints of meat. Gentlemen were scarcer,
but all were of the sub-fashionable type, to which Rickie himself now
belonged.

"I haven't done anything," he said feebly. "Ate, read, been rude to
tradespeople, talked to Widdrington. Herbert arrived this morning. He
has brought a most beautiful photograph of the Parthenon."

"Mr. Widdrington?"

"Yes."

"What did you talk about?"

She might have heard every word. It was only the feeling of pleasure
that he wished to conceal. Even when we love people, we desire to keep
some corner secret from them, however small: it is a human right: it is
personality. She began to cross-question him, but they were interrupted.
A young lady at an adjacent table suddenly rose and cried, "Yes, it is
you. I thought so from your walk." It was Maud Ansell.

"Oh, do come and join us!" he cried. "Let me introduce my wife." Maud
bowed quite stiffly, but Agnes, taking it for ill-breeding, was not
offended.

"Then I will come!" she continued in shrill, pleasant tones, adroitly
poising her tea things on either hand, and transferring them to the
Elliots' table. "Why haven't you ever come to us, pray?"

"I think you didn't ask me!"

"You weren't to be asked." She sprawled forward with a wagging finger.
But her eyes had the honesty of her brother's. "Don't you remember the
day you left us? Father said, 'Now, Mr. Elliot--' Or did he call you
'Elliot'? How one does forget. Anyhow, father said you weren't to wait
for an invitation, and you said, 'No, I won't.' Ours is a fair-sized
house,"--she turned somewhat haughtily to Agnes,--"and the second spare
room, on account of a harp that hangs on the wall, is always reserved
for S