"Edith's awfully wrong, I think, about the whole idea," said Dodo, hastily. "I should hate to be under anyone's influence; yet, I think, the only pleasure of knowing people is to be intimate. I would sooner have one real friend than fifty acquaintances."
"Did you see much of him?" asked Miss Grantham.
"Yes, a good deal," she said, "a great deal, in fact. I think Edith's right about intimacy as regards him, though he's an exception. In general, I think, she's wrong. What's that she's playing?"
"Anyhow, it's Wagner," said Miss Grantham.
"I know it," said Dodo. "It's the 'Tannhauser' overture. Listen, there's the Venus motif crossing the Pilgrim's march. Ah, that's simply wicked. The worst of it is, the Venus part is so much more attractive than the other. It's horrible."
"You're dreadfully serious to-night, Dodo," said Miss Grantham.
"I'm a little tired, I think," she said. "I was travelling all last night, you know. Come, let's go in."
Dodo went to bed soon afterwards. She said she was tired, and a little overdone. Edith looked at her rather closely as she said good-night.
"You're sure it's nothing more?" she asked. "There's nothing wrong with you, is there?"
"I shall be all right in the morning," said Dodo, rather wearily. "Don't let them call me till nine."