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Rh with nothing but a waltz tune singing in her head, and nothing but her own replete engagement book to read. She enjoyed with her brain as well as her body, looking not only with her eyes on the kaleidoscope of life, but interested, almost absorbed, in the instincts and impulses that made it move and glitter. She read much, she studied drama and music, she loved the rapier-flash of argument and criticism, and if she lay awake at night, it was not with the memory of a waltz, but with the excitement of some well-played scene in a play, or the relentless tragedy of the dusk of the Gods. But as a matter of fact, she lay awake very seldom.

Lucia, after an interval of a year, had been in London only a fortnight, and that fortnight had been very busy. In fact, but for a hand-press and a smile of genuine pleasure at a dance, she had not yet seen Maud. That was nearly a week ago, but on that occasion she had urged Maud to come to lunch any day, since she made a rule always to be in at lunch. But no sign had come from Maud till this morning, when, over the telephone, she proposed coming in to see Lucia about five, if she would naturally be in then, and they could have a talk together. Lucia had been just a little piqued by Maud's apparent indifference to the fact that she could come and have lunch any day; of old she felt that Maud would probably have appeared not only any, but every day; indeed, before coming to London this year, Lucia had hoped that, though it would be delightful to see her old friend again, Maud would understand that one's time was really not one's own, and that the old long talks, prolonged into the night, and the mornings spent together, were out of Lucia's power now. She did not mean to drop Maud at all—nothing was further from her thoughts; but in these weeks of whirl and rush, one's duties had to come first, one's pleasures afterwards.

But she awaited Maud's arrival to-day with eagerness; indeed, she did not like to think that they had been in the same town for two weeks and had only once set eyes on each other. She felt inclined to blame her friend a little for this; Maud could not possibly have nearly as much to do as she, and yet she had never once come near her. Yet, after all, perhaps it was not her fault: everybody was up to the eyes in June; June was a close time for friends. You only saw a million acquaintances. But when London was over, she would insist on Maud's coming with them on the yacht, or spending a fortnight at least with them in Scotland. Real friendships, so Lucia considered, must