Tony's having, before church, sent a word over to her on the subject of their coming to luncheon. "Dear Julia, this morning, is really grand," he had written. "We've just managed to move to her downstairs room, where they've put up a lovely bed and where the sight of all her things cheers and amuses her, to say nothing of the wide immediate outlook at her garden and her own corner of the terrace. In short the waves are going down and we're beginning to have our meals 'regular.' Luncheon may be rather late, but do bring over your charming little friend. How she lighted up yesterday my musty den! There will be another little friend, by the way—not of mine, but of Rose Armiger's, the young man to whom, as I think you know, she's engaged to be married. He's just back from China and comes down till to-morrow. Our Sunday trains are such a bore that, having wired him to take the other line, I'm sending to meet him at Plumbury." Mrs. Beever had no need to reflect on these few lines to be comfortably conscious that they summarised the nature of her neighbour—down to the "dashed sociability," as she had heard the poor fellow, in sharp reactions, himself call it,
