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206 Lucia produced a small cigarette-case, and suddenly broke out laughing again.

"You never saw anything so funny," she said. "Harry was racing Mouse down to the end of the corridor, and he went over exactly like a shot rabbit. Yes, don't be shocked, dear Aunt Cathie, but I do occasionally smoke, on—on alternate Tuesdays, you know, like your garden-parties at Brixham. Only Edgar doesn't like me to smoke in my bedroom—why, I can't imagine—so I have to smoke in other people's. Oh, and Maud and her Chubby come this evening. You will like to see Maud again, won't you?"

"And—was it Chubby?" asked Aunt Cathie.

"Yes, mixture of Charlie and husband, you see; also, it rather describes him. At least, he isn't chubby, you know, that's why. Let's see. To-night Harry takes you down. He's great fun; but don't talk to him about the Underground, or he'll go into peals of laughter. You see, his aunt was killed there in a dreadful railway accident; she fell on the electric rail and was literally roasted, and left Harry all her money. She"

"Oh, how shocking!" said Aunt Cathie. "But why does he laugh?"

Lucia's eyes suddenly fell on the puce-coloured silk that was laid out on her aunt's bed. The light shone very distinctly on to it, and she rapidly grasped the manner of it. For one moment she looked almost annoyed, the next she nearly laughed, and the third she spoke lightly and good-humouredly.

"Dearest Aunt Cathie," she said, "is that for to-night? It's almost too grand, isn't it? It's the kind of thing that the wives of South African millionaires go to the drawing-room in. You will find us all in scrubby country frocks, you know."

A gleam of heavenly triumph came into Aunt Cathie's face. The puce-coloured silk was smart; there was no denying it. Lucia herself said it was like a millionairess's drawing-room dress.

"You mustn't put us all in the shade," Lucia went on. "Pray wear something less magnificent, or we shall all be green with jealousy."

Aunt Cathie gave a little bubbling sound of pleasure, half laugh, half purr. She would tell Elizabeth about this, and Elizabeth's sarcasm would be mute for ever on the subject.

"Oh, I have brought other dinner-gowns," she said. "There's the grey with the lace; perhaps you remember it."

"Ah! then I'm sure that would be far more suitable for a