"Poor Oliver!" said Alicia, gently, her eyes on the ground. "How horrid it is that I have to go away!"
"You! When?" Lady Lucy turned sharply to look at the speaker.
"Oh! not till Saturday," said Alicia, hastily; "and of course I shall come back again--if you want me." She looked up with a smile.
"Oliver will certainly want you; I don't know whom he could--possibly--want--so much." Lady Lucy spoke the words with slow emphasis.
"Dear old boy!--I know," murmured Alicia. "I needn't be long away."
"Why must you go at all? I am sure the Treshams--Lady Evelyn--would understand--"
"Oh, I promised so faithfully!" pleaded Alicia, joining her hands. "And then, you know, I should be able to bring all sorts of gossip back to Oliver to amuse him."
Lady Lucy pressed her hand to her eyes in a miserable bewilderment. "I suppose it will be an immense party. You told me, I think, that Lady Evelyn had asked Lord Philip Darcy. I should be glad if you would make her understand that neither I, nor Sir James Chide, nor any other old friend of Mr. Ferrier can ever meet that man on friendly terms again." She looked up, her wrinkled cheeks flushed with color, her aspect threatening and cold.
"Of course!" said Alicia, soothingly. "Hateful man! I too loathe the thought of meeting him. But you know how delicate Evelyn is, and how she has been depending on me to help her. Now, oughtn't we to go back to Oliver?" She rose from her chair.
"Mr. Nixon left some directions to which I must attend," said Lady Lucy, turning to her desk. "Will you go and read to him?"