When Adela went to the drawing-room just before luncheon, she found Alice Mutimer engaged with a novel.  Reading novels had become an absorbing occupation with Alice.  She took them to bed with her so as to read late, and lay late in the morning for the same reason.  She must have been one of Mr. Mudie’s most diligent subscribers.  She had no taste for walking in the country, and could only occasionally be persuaded to take a drive.  It was not surprising that her face had not quite the healthy colour of a year ago; there was negligence, too, in her dress, and she had grown addicted to recumbent attitudes.  Between her and Adela no semblance of friendship had yet arisen, though the latter frequently sought to substitute a nearer relation for superficial friendliness.  Alice never exhibited anything short of good-will, but her first impressions were lasting; she suspected her sister-in-law of a desire to patronise, and was determined to allow nothing of the kind.  With a more decided character, Alice’s prepossessions would certainly have made life at the Manor anything but smooth; as it was, nothing ever occurred to make unpleasantness worth her while.  Besides, when not buried in her novels, she gave herself up to absentmindedness; Adela found conversation with her almost impossible, for Alice would answer a remark with a smiling ‘Yes’ or ‘No,’ and at once go off into dreamland, so that one hesitated to disturb her.

‘What time is it?’ she inquired, when she became aware of Adela moving about the room.

‘All but half-past one.’

’Really?  I suppose I must go and get ready for lunch.  What a pity we can’t do without meals!’

’You should go out in the morning and get an appetite.  Really, you are getting very pale, Alice.  I’m sure you read far too much.’

Adela had it on her lips to say ‘too many novels,’ but was afraid to administer a direct rebuke.

‘Oh, I like reading, and I don’t care a bit for going out.’

‘What about your practising?’ Adela asked, with a playful shake of the head.

’Yes, I know it’s very neglectful, but really it is such awful work.’

‘And your French?’

’I’ll make a beginning to-morrow.  At least, I think I will.  I don’t neglect things wilfully, but it’s so awfully hard to really get at it when the time comes.’

The luncheon-bell rang, and Alice, with a cry of dismay, sped to her room.  She knew that her brother was to lunch at home to-day, and Richard was terrible in the matter of punctuality.

As Soon as the meal was over Alice hastened back to her low chair in the drawing-room.  Richard and his wife went together into the garden.

‘What do you think Rodman’s been advising me this morning?’ Mutimer said, speaking with a cigar in his mouth.  ’It’s a queer idea; I don’t quite know what to think of it.  You know there’ll be a general election some time next year, and he advises me to stand for Belwick.’