Diva entered very briskly. She was redder in the face than usual, and, so Elizabeth instantly noticed, lifted her feet very high as she walked, and held her head well back and her breast out like a fat little pigeon. This time there was to be no question about getting a word in edgeways, for she began to talk before the door was fully open.

‘Glad to see you, Elizabeth,’ she said, ‘and I shall be very pleased to play bridge on Saturday. I’ve never felt so well in my life, do you know, and I’ve only been doing them two days. Oh, I see you’ve got the book.’

‘I heard you stamping and thumping, dear,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Was that them?’

‘Yes, twice a day, ten minutes each time. It clears the head, too. If you sit down to a crossword puzzle afterwards you find you’re much brighter than usual.’

‘Callisthenics à la Lucia?’ asked Elizabeth. ‘Yes. Irene and Mrs Bartlett and I all do them, and Mrs Wyse is going to begin, but rather more gently. Hasn’t Lucia told you about them?’

Here was another revelation of things happening. Elizabeth met it bravely.

‘No. Dear Lulu knows my feelings about that sort of fad. A brisk walk such as I’ve had this afternoon is all I require. Such lovely lights of sunset and a very high tide. Quaint Irene was sketching on the road just beyond Grebe.’

‘Yes. She’s going to send it in and three more for the winter exhibition. Oh, perhaps you haven’t heard. There’s to be an exhibition directly after Christmas.’

‘Such a good idea: I’ve been discussing it,’ said Elizabeth.

Diva’s eye travelled swiftly and suspiciously to the table where this flattering request to her lay on the top of the litter. Elizabeth did not fail to catch the significance of this.

‘Irene told me,’ she said hastily, ‘I must see if I can find time to do them something.’

‘Oh, then they have asked you,’ said Diva with a shade of disappointment in her voice. ‘They’ve asked me too –’

‘No! Really?’ said Elizabeth.

‘– so of course I said yes, but I’m afraid I’m rather out of practice. Lucia is going to give an address on modern art at the opening, and then we shall all go round and look at each other’s pictures.’

‘What fun!’ said Elizabeth cordially.

Tea had been brought in. There was a pot of greenish jam and Elizabeth loaded her buttered toast with it, and put it into her mouth. She gave a choking cry and washed it down with a gulp of tea.

‘Anything wrong?’ asked Diva.

‘Yes, dear. I’m afraid it’s fermenting,’ said Elizabeth, laying down the rest of her toast. ‘And I can’t conceive what it’s made of.’

Diva looked at the pot.