"You must come up and see me at Carsphairn," she urged Lilla. "No doubt your husband, living in the country, shoots. I can give him some grouse in the season. We have a fair amount of game on our moor at Balmaclellan."
"I shall be delighted, Mrs. Morrison," was Davidson's reply; as he lifted his eyes to Mrs. Pollen they exchanged significant glances.
Then, after a merry chat, Ena suddenly said:
"Can't all three of you dine with me at home one evening? You are not going North yet, are you, Mrs. Morrison? Do come. What about next Saturday?"
"I'm going back to Brighton to-morrow," was her reply.
"But you can easily run up on Saturday. Do. Let us dine early and go to a show together, eh?" she suggested with her usual enthusiasm. "You'll come, Lilla, won't you?"
Mrs. Davidson hesitated. She replied that she feared that she had an engagement that evening, and her husband was certain that he had.
"Oh, now, do come!" urged the Red Widow. "If Mrs. Morrison will come, you really must come."
Then, after a few half-hearted arguments and protests, Mrs. Morrison accepted the invitation and the Davidsons did likewise. And so the quiet little dinner was fixed, Ena promising to get a box at some theatre.
"Then we will go to Murray's or Giro's afterwards," she added.