THE AWKWARD AGE
"The British Poets," Nanda immediately answered, "were given me by Mr. Longdon, who has given me all the good books I have except a few—those in that top row—that have been given me at different times by Mr. Mitchy. Mr. Mitchy has sent me flowers too, as well as Mr. Longdon. And they're both—since we've spoken of my seeing them—coming, by appointment, this afternoon; not together, but Mr. Mitchy at 5.30 and Mr. Longdon at 6.30."
She had spoken as with conscious promptitude, making up for what she had not yet succeeded in saying by a quick, complete statement of her case. She was evidently also going on with more, but her actual visitor, with a laugh, had already taken her up. "You are making a day of it, and you run us like railway trains!" He looked at his watch. "Have I then time?"
"It seems to me I should say 'Have I?' But it's not half past four," Nanda went on, "and though I've something very particular, of course, to say to you, it won't take long. They don't bring tea till five, and you must surely stay till that. I had already written to you when they each, for the same reason, proposed this afternoon. They go out of town to-morrow for Sunday."
"Oh, I see—and they have to see you first. What an influence you exert, you know, on people's behavior!"
She continued as literal as her friend was facetious: "Well, it just happened so, and it didn't matter, since, on my asking you, don't you know? to choose your time, you had taken, as suiting you best, this comparatively early hour."
"Oh, perfectly." But he again had his watch out. "I've a job, perversely—that was my reason—on the other side of the world; which, by-the-way, I'm afraid, won't permit me to wait for tea. My tea doesn't matter." The watch went back to his pocket. "I'm sorry to say
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