"Yes, in Clevedon Square. You know, I told you about it, Queenie."
"Yes, I know, but I only wondered if perhaps you had a house in the country as well."
"No. Father and mother go to Scotland in the summer, and generally they send us to the seaside with Nurse and a governess or some one."
"I see," said Queenie reflectively. She had wondered if perhaps the Clares had a country house to which she, as a favourite school friend, would be asked to stay.
"Father hates the country," said Alex. "We are sure to be in London for a little while in September, before I come back here. Would you—would you—" She gulped and clasped her hands nervously. Certain of Lady Isabel's rules and recommendations rushed to her mind, but she desperately tried to ignore them.
"I suppose you would not come to tea with me one day, if I were allowed to ask you? Oh, if only your mother knew my mother!"
Smoothly Queenie took her cue. "Of course, mother won't let me go to tea with any one—unless she knows them herself—but I don't know.... What Club does your father belong to?"
"Two or three, I think," said Alex, surprised. "He often goes to Arthur's or the Turf Club."
"So does father. Perhaps we could manage it that way," said Queenie reflectively.
She had every intention of cultivating her friendship with Alex Clare in London.