“How's Charlotte?”

“All right.”

“Lucy!”

The unfortunate girl returned.

“You've a bad habit of hurrying away in the middle of one's sentences. Did Charlotte mention her boiler?”

“Her WHAT?”

“Don't you remember that her boiler was to be had out in October, and her bath cistern cleaned out, and all kinds of terrible to-doings?”

“I can't remember all Charlotte's worries,” said Lucy bitterly. “I shall have enough of my own, now that you are not pleased with Cecil.”

Mrs. Honeychurch might have flamed out. She did not. She said: