'Oh no. That was another man.'
She put her hand to her forehead.
'I'm worrying you, dear, with my bad memory. I'm so sorry. Well, then, you'll see Madame Frabelle for me?'
'I will if you like, but not as a companion. It's Miss Clay.'
'Miss Clay,' repeated Lady Conroy. 'Ah, here's tea. Do you take milk and sugar. Edith?'
'Let me pour it out,' said Edith, to whom it was maddening to see the curious things Lady Conroy did with the tea-tray. She was pouring tea into the sugar basin, looking up at Edith with the sweetest smile.
'I can't stay long,' Edith went on. 'I'm very sorry, dear, but you remember I told you I'm in a hurry…. I've an appointment at Landi's studio.'
'Landi? And who is that?'
'You know him—the composer—Sir Tito.'
'Oh, darling Sir Tito! Of course I do know him!' She smiled reminiscently. 'Won't you have anything to eat, dear? Do have a muffin! Oh, bother, there are none. I wonder how it is cook always forgets? Then you're going to send Madame Frabelle to see me the day after tomorrow?'