Part 28 (1/2)

'Have you?'

'And I'm sure I don't know how you can resist the temptation. I feel sure you could write books almost as clever as your husband's.'

'I have no intention of trying.'

'You don't seem very well to-day, Amy.'

'Oh, I think I am as well as usual.'

She guessed that her husband was once more brought to a standstill, and this darkened her humour again.

'One of my reasons for corning,' said Edith, 'was to beg and entreat and implore you and Mr Reardon to dine with us next Wednesday. Now, don't put on such a severe face! Are you engaged that evening?'

'Yes; in the ordinary way. Edwin can't possibly leave his work.'

'But for one poor evening! It's such ages since we saw you.'

'I'm very sorry. I don't think we shall ever be able to accept invitations in future.'

Amy spoke thus at the prompting of a sudden impulse. A minute ago, no such definite declaration was in her mind.

'Never?' exclaimed Edith. 'But why? Whatever do you mean?'

'We find that social engagements consume too much time,' Amy replied, her explanation just as much of an impromptu as the announcement had been. 'You see, one must either belong to society or not. Married people can't accept an occasional invitation from friends and never do their social duty in return.

We have decided to withdraw altogether--at all events for the present. I shall see no one except my relatives.'

Edith listened with a face of astonishment.

'You won't even see ME?' she exclaimed.

'Indeed, I have no wish to lose your friends.h.i.+p. Yet I am ashamed to ask you to come here when I can never return your visits.'

'Oh, please don't put it in that way! But it seems so very strange.'

Edith could not help conjecturing the true significance of this resolve.

But, as is commonly the case with people in easy circ.u.mstances, she found it hard to believe that her friends were so straitened as to have a difficulty in supporting the ordinary obligations of a civilised state.

'I know how precious your husband's time is,' she added, as if to remove the effect of her last remark. 'Surely, there's no harm in my saying--we know each other well enough--you wouldn't think it necessary to devote an evening to entertaining us just because you had given us the pleasure of your company. I put it very stupidly, but I'm sure you understand me, Amy. Don't refuse just to come to our house now and then.'

'I'm afraid we shall have to be consistent, Edith.'

'But do you think this is a WISE thing to do?'

'Wise?'

'You know what you once told me, about how necessary it was for a novelist to study all sorts of people. How can Mr Reardon do this if he shuts himself up in the house? I should have thought he would find it necessary to make new acquaintances.'

'As I said,' returned Amy, 'it won't be always like this. For the present, Edwin has quite enough ”material.”'

She spoke distantly; it irritated her to have to invent excuses for the sacrifice she had just imposed on herself. Edith sipped the tea which had been offered her, and for a minute kept silence.