He thought he would have lunch at one (he knew she always lunched with the children at this hour), and would call on her unexpectedly at two, before she would have time to go out.

They might have a long talk; he would give her the books and things he had bought for her, and he would have the pleasure of surprising her and seeing on her face that first look that no-one can disguise, the look of real welcome.
Merely to be back in the same town made him nearly wild with joy.

How jolly London looked at the beginning of July! So gay, so full of life.
And then he read a letter in a writing he didn't know; it was from Mavis Argles, the friend of Vincy--the young art-student: Vincy had given her his address some time ago--asking him for some special privilege which he possessed, to see some of the Chinese pictures in the British Museum.

He was to oblige her with a letter to the museum.
She would call for it.

Vincy was away, and evidently she had by accident chosen the day of Aylmer's return without knowing anything of his absence.