"Why, I thought you were at Dynehurst!" she exclaimed. "Bobby sent you a letter there yesterday."
"No. Mary persuaded me to stop on another week. I came to bring Robert a book I promised him."
"Oh, thank you, Granny!" said the boy. He held up his cheek to be kissed, received the rather forbidding looking volume that she held out, and retired soberly with it. It was called Lives of Noted Statesmen, Condensed. Bobby could not quite make out whether it meant that the lives or the statesmen were condensed. In any case it promised to be but a dull exchange for the adventures of Orlando. And then it was always so much jollier to be told a thing than to read it.
Lady Wychcote said affably to Amaldi:
"I shall flatter myself that if you'd known I was still here you'd have come to play for me while you were in the neighbourhood, Marchese."
"I should have been only too happy," replied he. "Perhaps you will allow me to come to-morrow?"
"What! All the way from London to call on an old woman?— Ah, that's very charming and Italian of you, I must say...."
"I'm stopping with the Arundels just now," said Amaldi. "But I should have been delighted to come from town to play for you." Like Susan, he found something perturbing in Lady Wychcote's manner. He could not define it, but he felt uneasy. There was a something underneath that very affable tone.... He thought her singularly antipatica. Perhaps that was it.... Yes ... it must be that.... She was antipatica.
On this occasion her ladyship did not leave before Amaldi as on her last visit. She remained until he and Olive Arundel had gone. Then she said to Sophy: "By the way—could I have a few minutes alone with you?"
"Of course," said Sophy.