Lydia did not share all these dissipations. She easily procured
invitations and chaperones for Alice, who wondered why so
intelligent a woman would take the trouble to sit out a stupid
concert, and then go home, just as the real pleasure of the evening
was beginning.

One Saturday morning, at breakfast, Lydia said,

"Your late hours begin to interfere with the freshness of your
complexion, Alice. I am getting a little fatigued, myself, with
literary work. I will go to the Crystal Palace to-day, and wander
about the gardens for a while; there is to be a concert in the
afternoon for the benefit of Madame Szczymplica, whose playing you
do not admire. Will you come with me?"

"Of course," said Alice, resolutely dutiful.

"Of choice; not of course," said Lydia. "Are you engaged for
to-morrow evening?"

"Sunday? Oh, no. Besides, I consider all my engagements subject to
your convenience."

There was a pause, long enough for this assurance to fall perfectly
flat. Alice bit her lip. Then Lydia said, "Do you know Mrs. Hoskyn?"

"Mrs. Hoskyn who gives Sunday evenings? Shall we go there?" said
Alice, eagerly. "People often ask me whether I have been at one of
them. But I don't know her--though I have seen her. Is she nice?"