he arrival of the train, it was evident that Algernon had torn
up the one addressed to Diva, when the Contessa heard whom she was to
meet the next evening.... Or Susan might easily have insinuated that
they would have two very pleasant tables of bridge after dinner without
including Diva, who was so wrong and quarrelsome over the score. Any of
these explanations were quite satisfactory, and since Diva would not be
present, Miss Mapp would naturally don the crimson-lake. They would all
see what crimson-lake looked like when it decked a suitable wearer and
was not parodied on the other side of a card-table. How true, as dear
Major Benjy had said, that one woman could wear what another could
not.... And if there was a woman who could not wear crimson-lake it was
Diva.... Or was Mr. Wyse really ashamed to let his sister see Diva in
the crimson-lake? It would be just like him to be considerate of Diva,
and not permit her to make a guy of herself before the Italian
aristocracy. No doubt he would ask her to lunch some day, quite quietly.
Or had ... Miss Mapp bloomed with pretty conjectures, like some Alpine
meadow when smitten into flower by the spring, and enjoyed her lunch
very much indeed.

The anxiety and suspense of the morning, which, instead of being
relieved, had ended in utter gloom, gave Diva a headache, and she
adopted her usual strenuous methods of getting rid of it. So, instead of
lying down and taking aspirin and dozing, she set out after lunch to
walk it off. She sprinted and splashed along the miry roads, indifferent
as to whether she stepped in puddles or not, and careless how wet she
got. She bit on the bullet of her omission from the dinner-party this
evening, determining not to mind one atom about it, but to look forward
to a pleasant evening at home instead of going out (like this) in the
wet. And never--never under any circumstances would she ask any of the
guests what sort of an evening had been spent, how Mr. Wyse announced
the news, and how the Faradiddleony played bridge. (She said that
satirical word aloud, mouthing it to the puddles and the dripping
hedge-rows.) She would not evince the slightest interest in it all; she
would cover it with spadefuls of oblivion, and when next she met Mr.
Wyse she would, whatever she might feel, behave exactly as usual. She
plumed herself on this dignified resolution, and walked so fast that the
hedge-rows became quite transparent. That was the proper thing to do;
sh