It is true that she had been away, but still
there was the medium of the post.
"_Ecco_ indeed!" she said. "It puts me in rather a difficult
position, for I must send out my invitations to my garden-party today,
and I really don't know whether I ought to be officially aware of this
man's existence or not. I can't write to Daisy Quantock and say 'Pray
bring your black friend Om or whatever his names proves to be, and on
the other hand, if he is the sort of person whom one would be sorry to
miss, I should not like to have passed over him."
"After all, my dear, you have only been back in Riseholme half an
hour," said her husband. "It would have been difficult for Mrs
Quantock to have told you yet."
Her face cleared.
"Perhaps Daisy has written to me about him," she said. "I may find a
full account of it all when I open my letters."
"Depend upon it you will. She would hardly have been so wanting in
proper feeling as not to have told you. I think, too, that her visitor
must only have just arrived, or I should have been sure to see him
about somewhere."
She rose.
"Well, we will see," she said. "Now I shall be very busy all afternoon,
but by tea-time I shall be ready to see anyone who calls. Give me my
letters, _Caro_, and I will find out if Daisy has written to me."
She turned them over as she went to her room, and there among them was
a bulky envelope addressed in Mrs Quantock's great sprawling hand,
which looked at first sight so large and legible, but on closer
examination turned out to be so baffling.
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