Lucia was at home there was often a new little quaintness for quite a
sequence of days, and she had held out hopes to the Literary Society
that perhaps some day, when she was not so rushed, she would jot down
material for a sequel to her essay, or write another covering a rather
larger field on "The Gambits of Conversation Derived from Furniture."

On the table there was a pile of letters waiting for Mrs Lucas, for
yesterday's post had not been forwarded her, for fear of its missing
her--London postmen were probably very careless and untrustworthy--and
she gave a little cry of dismay as she saw the volume of her
correspondence.

"But I shall be very naughty," she said "and not look at one of them
till after lunch. Take them away, _Caro_, and promise me to lock
them up till then, and not give them me however much I beg. Then I will
get into the saddle again, such a dear saddle, too, and tackle them. I
shall have a stroll in the garden till the bell rings. What is it that
Nietzsche says about the necessity to _mediterranizer_ yourself
every now and then? I must _Riseholme_ myself."

Peppino remembered the quotation, which had occurreded in a review of some
work of that celebrated author, where Lucia had also seen it, and went
back, with the force of contrast to aid him, to his prose-poem of
"Loneliness," while his wife went through the smoking-parlour into the
garden, in order to soak herself once more in the cultured atmosphere.

In this garden behind the house there was no attempt to construct a
Shakespearian plot, for, as she so rightly observed, Shakespeare, who
loved flowers so well, would wish her to enjoy every conceivable
horticultural treasure. But furniture played a prominent part in the