This difficulty overcome they got into a cab, the maid following in another. But, as Lady Lyons was always afraid of being cold, she took a bearskin of some standing, a roll of rugs, and a bottle of lavender-water. She gave the man unnecessarily minute directions, and pulled up her window. It was the last days of a hot June.
Grace let her window down with a bang that very nearly shivered it to atoms.
"My dear Miss Rivers, pray put up the window. I have such a languid circulation, and I am ordered by my medical men to be careful about draughts."
"There really cannot be a draught when one window is hermetically closed," said Grace very coolly; "be as stuffy as you like on your side of the carriage, but I must have fresh air."
Lady Lyons was a little daunted, and said nothing. In a moment or two she began to cough, a short cough improvised for the occasion. Grace took no notice.
"If I am very ill you will have to send to Wandsworth for Mr. Jones," she said, at length.
"Why should you be ill? Fresh air is what you want, Lady Lyons. You are coughing on purpose."
"My dear Miss Rivers."
"Wait till you hear me cough; then you will know a real cough when you hear one," said Grace laughing and putting up a little bit of window. She did not want to quarrel with Lady Lyons, but she did intend to assert her independence from the first.
They went to a private hotel, where again Grace interfered. She would have nothing but the best rooms, and all the little arrangements put forward in an economical form by poor Lady Lyons were ruthlessly swept upon one side.