When she saw the club, and
Mrs. Arbuthnot, and Mrs. Wilkins, she was sure that here was exactly
what she wanted. She would be in Italy--a place she adored; she would
not be in hotels--places she loathed; she would not be staying with
friends--persons she disliked; and she would be in the company of
strangers who would never mention a single person she knew, for the
simple reason that they had not, could not have, and would not come
across them. She asked a few questions about the fourth woman, and was
satisfied with the answers. Mrs. Fisher, of Prince of Wales Terrace.
A widow. She too would be unacquainted with any of her friends. Lady
Caroline did not even know where Prince of Wales Terrace was.
"It's in London," said Mrs. Arbuthnot.
"Is it?" said Lady Caroline.
It all seemed most restful.
Mrs. Fisher was unable to come to the club because, she explained
by letter, she could not walk without a stick; therefore Mrs. Arbuthnot
and Mrs. Wilkins went to her.
"But if she can't come to the club how can she go to Italy?"
wondered Mrs. Wilkins, aloud.
"We shall hear that from her own lips," said Mrs. Arbuthnot.
From Mrs. Fisher's lips they merely heard, in reply to delicate
questioning, that sitting in trains was not walking about; and they
knew that already.
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