Lady Conroy had often compared herself to the old woman who lived in a
shoe, because of her large family. Her friends declared she didn't
remember how many children she had. She loved them, but there were
certainly weeks when she didn't see the younger ones, for she was
constantly absorbed in various different subjects. Besides, she spent
most of her life in looking for things.
She was hopelessly careless and had no memory at all.
Suddenly she glanced at the watch on her wrist, compared it with the
splendid Empire clock on the mantelpiece, and went with a bewildered
look to the telephone on her writing-desk. Having gone through a
considerable amount of torture by calling up the wrong number and
absently ringing off as soon as she had got the right one, she at last
found herself talking to Edith.
'Oh, is that you, dear? How lucky to catch you! Yes.... Yes.... I came
back yesterday. Dying to see you. Can't you come round and see me? Oh,
you've got on your hat; you were just coming? Of course, I forgot! I
knew I had an appointment with someone! How soon will you be here?...
In a quarter of an hour? Good! Could you tell me the time, dear?.
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