“Dear me, no,” said Daisy genially. “But how do you make it up to three thousand?”
“By addition,” said this annoying man. “There’ll be every penny of that. I was at the lending library after lunch, and those who could add made it all that.”
Daisy turned to Georgie.
“You’ll be alone with Lucia then to-night,” she said.
“Oh, I knew that,” said Georgie. “She told me Pepino had gone. I expect he’s sleeping in that house to-night.”
Mr. Quantock produced his calculations, and the argument waxed hot. It was still raging when Georgie left in order to get a little rest before going on to dinner, and to practise the Mozart duet. He and Lucia hadn’t tried it before, so it was as well to practise both parts, and let her choose which she liked. Foljambe had come back from her afternoon out, and told him that there had been a trunk call for him while he was at tea, but she could make nothing of it.
“Somebody in a great hurry, sir,” she said, “and kept asking if I was—excuse me, sir, if I was Georgie—I kept saying I wasn’t, but I’d fetch you. That wouldn’t do, and she said she’d telegraph.”
“But who was it?” asked Georgie.
“Couldn’t say, sir. She never gave a name, but only kept asking.”
“She?” asked Georgie.