‘You don’t seem very well to-day, Amy.’
‘Oh, I think I am as well as usual.’
She guessed that her husband was once more brought to a standstill, and this darkened her humour again.
‘One of my reasons for coming,’ said Edith, ‘was to beg and entreat and implore you and Mr Reardon to dine with us next Wednesday. Now, don’t put on such a severe face! Are you engaged that evening?’
‘Yes; in the ordinary way. Edwin can’t possibly leave his work.’
‘But for one poor evening! It’s such ages since we saw you.’
‘I’m very sorry. I don’t think we shall ever be able to accept invitations in future.’
Amy spoke thus at the prompting of a sudden impulse. A minute ago, no such definite declaration was in her mind.
‘Never?’ exclaimed Edith. ‘But why? Whatever do you mean?’
‘We find that social engagements consume too much time,’ Amy replied, her explanation just as much of an impromptu as the announcement had been. ‘You see, one must either belong to society or not. Married people can’t accept an occasional invitation from friends and never do their social duty in return.