"Your own,
"DAISY."

The voluminous sheets had taken long in reading and Mrs Lucas folded
them up slowly and thoughtfully. She felt that she had to make a swift
decision that called into play all her mental powers. On the one hand
it was "up to her" to return a frigid reply, conveying, without making
any bones about the matter, that she had no interest in nameless Gurus
who might or might not be Brahmins from Benares and presented
themselves at Daisy's doors in a penniless condition without clear
knowledge whether they had come by train or not. In favour of such
prudent measures was the truly Athenian character of Daisy's mind, for
she was always enquiring into "some new thing," which was the secret of
life when first discovered, and got speedily relegated to the
dust-heap. But against such a course was the undoubted fact that Daisy
did occasionally get hold of somebody who subsequently proved to be of
interest, and Lucia would never forget to her dying day the advent in
Riseholme of a little Welsh attorney, in whom Daisy had discovered a
wonderful mentality. Lucia had refused to extend her queenly
hospitality to him, or to recognise his existence in any way during the
fortnight when he stayed with Daisy, and she was naturally very much
annoyed to find him in a prominent position in the Government not many
years later. Indeed she had snubbed him so markedly on his first
appearance at Riseholme that he had refused on subsequent visits to
come to her house at all, though he several times visited Mrs Quantock
again, and told her all sorts of political secrets (so she said) which
she would not divulge for anything in the world. There must never be a
repetition of so fatal an error.

Another thing inclined the wavering balance. She distinctly wanted some