He roused himself with an effort. His mother was putting up her knitting, which, indeed, she had only pretended to work at.
"We must go and dress, Oliver. Oh! I forgot to tell you--Alicia arrived an hour ago."
"Ah!" He raised his eyebrows indifferently. "I hope she's well?"
"Brilliantly well--and as handsome as ever."
"Any love-affairs?"
"Several, apparently--but nothing suitable," said Lady Lucy, with a smile, as she rose and gathered together her possessions.
"It's time, I think, that Alicia made up her mind. She has been out a good while."
It gave him a curious pleasure--he could hardly tell why--to say this slighting thing of Alicia. After all, he had no evidence that she had done anything unfriendly or malicious at the time of the crisis. Instinctively, he had ranged her then and since as an enemy--as a person who had worked against him. But, in truth, he knew nothing for certain. Perhaps, after the foolish passages between them a year ago, it was natural that she should dislike and be critical of Diana. As to her coming now, it was completely indifferent to him. It would be a good thing, no doubt, for his mother to have her companionship.
As he opened the door for Lady Lucy to leave the room, he noticed her gray and fragile look.
"I believe you have had enough of London, mother. You ought to be getting abroad."