‘She was “all over me”, to use that dreadful slang expression of Major Benjy’s,’ continued Mapp. ‘She was like a dog that has had a scolding and begs – so prettily – to be forgiven. Mind, dear, I do not say that she is a bad sort of woman by any means, but she required to be put in her place, and Tilling ought to thank me for having done so. Dear me, here we are already at your house. How short the drive has seemed!’

‘Anyhow, you didn’t get the recipe for the lobster à la Riseholme,’ said Diva, for this was one of the things she most wanted to say.

‘A little final wriggle,’ said Mapp. ‘I have not the least doubt that she will think it over and send it me tomorrow. Good night, darling. I shall be sending out invitations for a cosy evening of bridge some time at the end of this week.’

The baffled Diva let herself into Wasters in low spirits, so convinced and lucid had been Mapp’s comments on the evening. It was such a dismal conclusion to so much excitement; and all that thrilling tension, instead of snapping, had relaxed into the most depressing slackness. But she did not quite give up hope, for there had been cats’-paws and caps of foam on the tranquil sea. She fell asleep visualising these.

Chapter 9

Though Georgie had thought that the garden-room would have to give him at least two more sittings before his sketch arrived at that high state of finish which he, like the Pre-Raphaelites, regarded as necessary to any work of art, he decided that he would leave it in a more impressionist state, and sent it next morning to be framed. In consequence the glass of water which Elizabeth had brought out for him in anticipation of his now usual visit at eleven o’clock remained unsullied by washings from his brush, and at twelve, Elizabeth, being rather thirsty in consequence of so late a supper the night before, drank it herself. On the second morning, a very wet one, Major Benjy did not go out for his usual round of golf, and again Georgie did not come to paint. But at a few minutes to one she observed that his car was at the door of Mallards Cottage; it passed her window, it stopped at Major Benjy’s, and he got in. It was impossible not to remember that Lucia always lunched at one in the winter because a later hour for colazione made the afternoon so short. But it was a surprise to see Major Benjy driving away with Miss Milliner Michael-Angelo, and difficult to conjecture where else it was at all likely that they could have gone.