She had distinctly been wearing one of the
"Scrub" this morning at the class, so she must have changed after
lunch, which was an unheard of thing to do for a mere stroll on the
green. Georgie knew well that this was no mere stroll; she was on her
way to pay a call of the most formal and magnificent kind. She did not
deviate a hair-breadth from her straight course to the door of the
Arms, she just waggled her hand to Mrs Antrobus, blew a kiss to her
sprightly daughters, made a gracious bow to Colonel Boucher, who stood
up and took his hat off, and went on with the inexorability of the
march of destiny, or of fate knocking at the door in the immortal fifth
symphony. And in her hand she carried a note. Through his glasses
Georgie could see it quite plainly, and it was not a little folded-up
sheet, such as she commonly used, but a square thick envelope. She
disappeared in the Arms and Georgie began thinking feverishly. A great
deal depended on how long she stopped there.
A few little happenings beguiled the period of waiting. Mrs Weston
desisted from her wild career, and came to anchor on the path just
opposite the door into the Arms, while the gardener's boy sank
exhausted on to the grass. It was quite easy to guess that she proposed
to have a chat with Lucia when she came out. Similarly the Miss
Antrobuses who had paid no attention to her at all before, ceased from
their pretty gambolings, and ran up to talk to her, so they wanted a
word too.
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