“No!” said Georgie, beginning to feel the thrill of Lucia again.
“Yes, he came to dine with me, such a little duck, and brought his flute. There was a great deal of talk about my party for Alf, and how the women buzzed round him!”
“Who else?” said Georgie greedily.
“My dear, who not else? Marcelle—Marcelle Periscope came another night, Adele, Sophy Alingsby, Bertie Alton, Aggie—I must ask dear Aggie down here; Tony—Tony Limpsfield; a thousand others. And then of course dear Marcia Whitby often. She is giving a ball to-morrow night. I should like to have been there, but I was just finito. Ah, and your friend Princess Isabel. Very bad influenza. You should ring up her house, Georgie, and ask how she is. I called there yesterday. So sad! But let us talk of more cheerful things. Daisy’s clock-golf: I must pop in and see her at it to-morrow. She is wonderful, I suppose. I have ordered a set from the Stores, and we will have great games.”
“She’s been doing nothing else for weeks,” said Georgie. “I daresay she’s very good, but nobody takes any interest in it. She’s rather a bore about it——”
“Georgie, don’t be unkind about poor Daisy,” said Lucia. “We must start little competitions, with prizes. Do you have partners? You and I will be partners at mixed putting. And what about Abfou?”
It seemed to Georgie that this was just the old Lucia, and so no doubt it was. She was intending to bag any employments that happened to be going about and claim them as her own. It was larceny, intellectual and physical larceny, no doubt, but Lucia breathed life into those dead bones and made them interesting. It was weary work to watch Daisy dabbing away with her putter and then trying to beat her score without caring the least whether you beat it or not. And Daisy even telephoned her more marvellous feats, and nobody cared how marvellous they were. But it would be altogether different if Lucia was the goddess of putting....
“I haven’t Abfou’d for ages,” said Georgie. “I fancy she has dropped it.”
“Well, we must pick everything up again,” said Lucia briskly, “and you sha’n’t be lazy any more, Georgie. Come and play duets. My dear piano! What shall we do?”
They did quantities of things, and then Lucia played the slow movement of the Moonlight Sonata, and Georgie sighed as usual, and eventually Lucia let him out and walked with him to the garden gate. There were quantities of stars, and as usual she quoted “See how the floor of heaven is thick inlaid ...” and said she must ring him up in the morning, after a good night’s rest.