Lucia pressed her finger to her forehead.
"Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday," she began. "No, not Tuesday, I am doing
nothing on Tuesday. You want to be the death of me between you. Why?"
"I hope that my dear friend, Princess Popoffski, will be staying with
me" said Mrs Quantock. "Do get over your prejudice against
spiritualism, and give it a chance. Come to a seance on Tuesday. You,
too, of course, Georgie: I know better than to invite Lucia without
you."
Lucia put on the far-away look which she reserved for the masterpieces
of music, and for Georgie's hopeless devotion.
"Lovely! That will be lovely!" she said. "Most interesting! I shall
come with a perfectly open mind."
Georgie scarcely lamented the annihilation of a mystery. He must surely
have imagined the mystery, for it all collapsed like a card-house, if
the Princess was coming back. The seances had been most remarkable,
too; and he would have to get out his planchette again.
"And what's going to happen on Wednesday?" he asked Lucia. "All I know
is that I've not been asked. Me's offended."
"Ickle surprise," said Lucia. "You're not engaged that evening, are
you? Nor you, dear Daisy? That's lovely. Eight o'clock? No, I think a
quarter to. That will give us more time. I shan't tell you what it is."
Mrs Quantock, grasping her lozenges, wondered how much taller she would
be by then.
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