'You were asleep nearly all that day. Yes,' said Miss Entwhistle, clearing her throat, 'we had a—we had quite a little talk.'
'What did he say?'
'Well, he naturally wanted you to be well enough to go up to London, and of course he was very sorry you couldn't.'
Lucy looked suddenly much happier.
'Yes,' said Miss Entwhistle, as though in answer to the look.
'He hates writing letters, you know, Aunt Dot,' Lucy said presently.
'Men do,' said Miss Entwhistle. 'It's very curious,' she continued brightly, 'but men do.'
'And he hates telephoning. It was wonderful for him to have telephoned that day.'
'Men,' said Miss Entwhistle, 'are very funny about some things.'
'To-day is Thursday, isn't it,' said Lucy. 'He ought to be here by one o'clock to-morrow.'