There arose in her mind an impulse to invite Emily Fox-Seton to remain the rest of her life with her, but she was too experienced an elderly lady to give way to impulses.

She privately resolved, however, that she would have her a good deal in South Audley Street, and would make her some decent presents.
When Emily Fox-Seton, attired for her walk in her shortest brown linen frock and shadiest hat, passed through the hall, the post-boy was just delivering the midday letters to a footman.

The servant presented his salver to her with a letter for herself lying upon the top of one addressed in Lady Claraway's handwriting "To the Lady Agatha Slade." Emily recognised it as one of the epistles of many sheets which so often made poor Agatha shed slow and depressed tears.

Her own letter was directed in the well-known hand of Mrs.Cupp, and she wondered what it could contain.
"I hope the poor things are not in any trouble," she thought.

"They were afraid the young man in the sitting-room was engaged.