Josephine West had talked a good deal about the point of view, and the sense of perspective and other abstractions; and yet she could feel irritated because she fancied that a man who had reduced dissimulation to a science had not been quite frank with her.
She was still suffering from this irritation when Amber Severn came up to her accompanied by Pierce Winwood.
"I thought that as I would see you here I need not write to remind you that you are to come to us at The Weir to-morrow week," cried Amber.
"Is to-morrow week one of the dates that we agreed upon last month?" asked Josephine.
"Yes; you have got it all properly noted in your book. We shall be a quiet little party. Mr. Win-wood is coming."
"That is a sufficient guarantee," said Josephine nodding to Mr. Winwood. They had reached these confidential terms, having met frequently since they had had their little chat together in the rose-garden.
"My ordinary deportment is chilling to the Hooligan element," said Winwood. "Miss Severn mentioned my name to allay your suspicions."
"Our only excitement is to be the visit which we are to pay to The Gables," said Amber. "Guy has invited us to drink tea on his lawn."
"That is something to look forward to," said Josephine.
"I hope his caterers are not the Casa Maccaroni," said Winwood.
And then two or three other people joined their group, and Winwood got parted from Amber by the thoughtfulness of Lord Lullworth who, it seemed, was an emissary from his mother, the Countess of Castlethorpe. The great lady hoped, according to Lord Lullworth, that Miss Severn would consent to be presented to her, and, of course, Miss Severn would not be so absurd as to return a rude answer to a request which represented so modest an aspiration.
By this means Lord Lullworth who had great difficulty in finding his mother had for a companion for quite half an hour of this lovely afternoon, Miss Severn, and for even a longer space of time Josephine West was by the side of Pierce Winwood beneath the red brick walls which had once sheltered a great Man of Letters.
They talked of the great Man of Letters and indeed other topics.
Amber had come to the conclusion that it would be better for her to be frank with her friend Josephine in regard to the _personnel_ of her fellow-guests at The Weir for the Sunday. A month had passed since Josephine had promised to keep herself disengaged for this particular Sunday, but in the meantime a good many things had happened, the most important being (as she fancied) the dinner at Ranelagh, which had given a certain amount of prominence to Mr. Win-wood and had aroused a curious prejudice against him in the estimation of Josephine. It was thus, she thought, only fair to Josephine to tell her that Mr. Winwood had also promised to go to The Weir for the Sunday, so that, if she felt that another day spent in his company would be insupportable, she might have a chance of concocting some excuse for remaining in town.
