hink that he would no longer be compelled to
perjure himself on Anne's account. The Hannays had frequently reproached
him with his wife's unreadiness in response, and (as he had told her) he
had exhausted all acceptable explanations of her conduct. He had "worked"
her headaches "for all they were worth" with Hannay; for weeks he had
kept Hannay's wife from calling, by the fiction, discreetly presented, of
a severe facial neuralgia; and his last shameless intimation, that Anne
was "rather shy, you know," had been received with a respectful
incredulity that left him with nothing more to say.

Mrs. Hannay was not at home when Anne called, for Anne had deliberately
avoided her "day." But Mrs. Hannay was irrepressibly forgiving, and Anne
found herself invited to dine at the Hannays' with her husband early in
the following week. It was hardly an hour since she had left Mrs.
Hannay's doorstep when the pressing, the almost alarmingly affectionate
little note came hurrying after her.

"I'll go, dear, if you really want me to," said she.

"Well--I think, if you don't mind. The Hannays have been awfully good to
me."

So they went.

"Don't snub the poor little woman too unmercifully," was Edith's parting
charge.

"I promise you I'll not snub her at all," said Anne.

"You can't," said Majendie. "She's like a soft sofa cushion with lots of
frills on. You can sit on her, as you sit on a sofa cushion, and she's as
plump, and soft, and accommodating as ever the next day."

The Hannays lived in the Park.

Majendie talked a great deal on the way there. His supporting and
attentive manner was not quite the stimulant he had meant it to be. Anne
gathered that the ordeal would be trying; he was so eager to make it
appear otherwise.

"Once you're there, it won't be bad, you know, at all. The Hannays are
really all right. They'll ask the very nicest people they know to meet
you. They think you're doing them a tremendous honour, you know, and
they'll rise to it. You'll see how they'll rise."

Mrs. Hannay had every appearance of having risen to it. Anne's entrance
(she was impressive in her entrances) set the standard high; yet Mrs.
Hannay rose. When agreeably excited Mrs. Hannay was accustomed to move
from one end of her drawing-room to the other with the pleasing and
impalpable velocity of all soft round bodies inspired by gaiety. So
exuberant was the softness of the little lady and so voluminous her
flying frills, that at these m