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"But really I think it's not so urgent," Mr. Pomeroy murmured. "Mrs. Forster can come any time, can she not?"

"I don't quite agree with you," remonstrated Miss Crabbage. "There is so little time, you see. Almost none at all, and if ..."

Her voice always died into a murmur. The Duchess adored these little struggles over her so-to-speak recumbent body. She always waited for a while to see how things were going, and then sprang up to settle everything with a dominating word.

"Mr. Brixham and Mrs. Forster can come on Wednesday, Miss Crabbage. Do bring Rosalind to luncheon to-morrow, Janet, dear. We shall be so pleased to see her."

All this disturbance and then, perhaps after all, Rosalind might refuse to come. Rosalind had no liking for meals at Halkin Street. However, at this important time ...

"Thank you so much. I'm sure she'll love to come."

And, after all, in a corner of the drawing-room she had her word with the Duke. He put his arm through hers, and drew her to him so that they stood, body and soul, together.