She repeated the process on four sheets of note-paper, and as she was beginning the fifth attempt the door was opened and the servant announced that Mr.Conway was waiting in the drawing-room.

Clarice tore up the fifth sheet and rose from her chair.

'I can write it when I get home,' she said.
'Percy Conway!' said Mrs.Willoughby when the door was closed again.
'What a funny thing! He's not in the habit of visiting me.' 'The fact is,' said Clarice, without the least embarrassment, as she pinned on her hat, 'I asked him to call for me here.

You don't mind, do you ?' 'Clarice!' exclaimed Mrs.Willoughby.She stared at the girl, noticing the traces of tears still visible on her face, and then she began to laugh.
'Connie!' said Miss Le Mesurier, and her tone showed that she was hurt.
'You _are_ unsympathetic.' 'I can't help it,' cried Mrs.Willoughby, and she laughed yet louder.

'I can't help it, dear!' 'You can't imagine how lonely I have felt since--' 'Since yesterday,' cried Mrs.Willoughby, and her laughter increased.
'Clarice, you'll be the death of me.' Clarice stood gazing at her patiently, her face grave with reproach, until Mrs.Willoughby succeeded in composing herself to a fitting seriousness.