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Impulsively Louisa stripped down the nearest corner for a look at the mattress. It was pink too.
    â€œAt least I’m on velvet for a week,” thought Louisa.
    It struck her that a week seemed to be the natural term of any luxury for her. It had been for a week that she’d luxuriated at Cannes …
    Her thoughts veered to Mrs. Anstruther. Brief though their meeting had been, in Louisa’s opinion it sufficed to form a judgment.
    â€œShe’s nothing,” thought Louisa, “she’s a nonentity. She just happened to be born with a profile …”
    But just that profile, that echo from a Victorian beauty-book, was going to put Enid Anstruther on velvet for the rest of her life.
    4
    If Louisa had been thinking about Mrs. Anstruther, so, evidently, had Mrs. Anstruther been thinking about Louisa. It was only natural—as it was only natural that she should have cut short her siesta to stroll with Freddy on the broad gravel walk under the bedroom windows.
    â€œFreddy dear, who exactly is Miss Datchett?” murmured Enid Anstruther.
    Louisa had no scruples about eavesdropping in such a case as this; but sat up to listen better.
    â€œGel I’ve known all my life,” said Freddy. “That is, knew her people all my life …”
    There was a slight pause.
    â€œI don’t remember any Datchetts at Keithley?” mused Mrs. Anstruther.
    â€œCame from Leeds,” said Freddy instantly. “After you deserted me and went to Argentina. It’s eighteen years, y’know.”
    â€œYou’ve changed so little, I forget,” sighed Mrs. Anstruther.—The next moment she rippled with pretty laughter; she was very volatile. “And I feel just a slip of a girl again,” confessed Mrs. Anstruther, “with my chaperone! Kind Freddy, to take such care of me! I wonder what made you ask Miss Datchett.”
    â€œConvalescing after mumps,” said Freddy. “Thought I’d kill two birds with one stone.”
    Louisa’s outraged ear caught a delicate babble of alarm. Then—
    â€œNo, of course she ain’t infectious,” said Freddy. “I told you, she’s convalescing. Building up.”
    5
    As in completion of the circuit—
    â€œWell, now you’ve seen her,” inquired F. Pennon, “what d’you think of her?”
    He and Louisa were waiting in the spacious, galleried entrance hall for Mrs. Anstruther to come down to dinner—Freddy in black tie, Louisa, to keep her spirits up, in toreador pants.
    â€œShe’s got the most beautiful profile,” said Louisa sincerely, “I’ve ever seen off an Afghan.”
    â€œShe has, hasn’t she?” said Freddy eagerly. “It’s what I’ve always remembered about her—that little nose, and the way her lip curls … she hasn’t changed in the least. She says I haven’t either.”
    â€œIn fact the water was quite warm,” said Louisa.
    He looked at her suspiciously.
    â€œWhat water?”
    â€œThe plunge. In off the deep end, up with your pockets full of fish,” said Louisa, who was feeling rather disagreeable. “Why the hell did you have to give me mumps?”
    â€œIt just came into my mind.—D’you mean to say you were listening?” retorted Freddy.
    â€œNaturally, in this heat, I had the window open. You should be more careful, on that path.”
    â€œWell, what would you have liked me to give you?” inquired Freddy sulkily.
    â€œAppendicitis,” said Louisa. “If you had to give me anything, appendicitis would have been classier. I suppose I’m lucky you didn’t think of pinkeye.”
    â€œYou haven’t much regard for my feelings,” said Freddy, “if when I want to talk about Enid you start talking about pinkeye.”
    Absurdly, they were almost quarreling. With genuine remorse, for she really was fond of F. Pennon, Louisa pulled herself up.
    â€œOkay,