“Whoever said it was?” said Daisy. “I’m all for everybody doing exactly as they like. I just shrug my shoulders.”
She heaved up her round little shoulders with an effort.
“Georgie, how do you think she’ll begin up there?” she said. “There’s that cousin of hers with whom she stayed sometimes, Aggie Sandeman, and then, of course, there’s Olga Bracely. Will she just pick up acquaintances, and pick up more from them, like one of those charity snowballs? Will she be presented? Not that I take the slightest interest in it.”
Georgie looked at his watch and rose.
“I do,” he said. “I’m thrilled about it. I expect she’ll manage. After all, we none of us wanted to have May-Day revels last year but she got us to. She’s got drive.”
“I should call it push,” said Daisy. “Come back and tell me exactly what’s happened.”
“Any message?” asked Georgie.
“Certainly not,” said Daisy again, and began untying the string of the parcel that held the instruments of divination.
Georgie went quickly down the road (for he saw Lucia’s motor already at the door) and up the paved walk that led past the sundial, round which was the circular flower-border known as Perdita’s border, for it contained only the flowers that Perdita gathered. To-day it was all a-bloom with daffodils and violets and primroses, and it was strange to think that Lucia would not go gassing on about Perdita’s border, as she always did at this time of the year, but would have to be content with whatever flowers there happened to be in Brompton Square: a few sooty crocuses perhaps and a periwinkle.... She was waiting for him, kissed her hand through the window, and opened the door.
“Now for a little chat,” she said, adjusting a very smart hat, which Georgie was sure he had never seen before. There was no trace of mourning about it: it looked in the highest spirits. So, too, did Lucia.