"Your father is then not long dead?" said Lydia in her usual tone.

"Only two years," said Alice, coldly. "I hardly know how to tell my
mother that I am going to desert her."

"Go and tell her today, Alice. You need not be afraid of hurting
her. Grief of two years' standing is only a bad habit."

Alice started, outraged. Her mother's grief was sacred to her; and
yet it was by her experience of her mother that she recognized the
truth of Lydia's remark, and felt that it was unanswerable. She
frowned; but the frown was lost: Miss Carew was not looking at her.
Then she rose and went to the door, where she stopped to say,

"You do not know our family circumstances. I will go now and try to
prevail on my mother to let me stay with you."

"Please come back in good time for dinner," said Lydia, unmoved. "I
will introduce you to my cousin Lucian Webber. I have just received
a telegram from him. He is coming down with Lord Worthington. I do
not know whether Lord Worthington will come to dinner or not. He has
an invalid friend at the Warren, and Lucian does not make it clear
whether he is coming to visit him or me. However, it is of no
consequence; Lord Worthington is only a young sportsman. Lucian is a
clever man, and will be an eminent one some day. He is secretary to
a Cabinet Minister, and is very busy; but we shall probably see him
often while the Whitsuntide holidays last. Excuse my keeping you
waiting at the door to hear that long history. Adieu!" She waved her
hand; Alice suddenly felt that it was possible to be very fond of