Evelina, a little red spot burning in her sallow cheeks, stood silent and dignified during the good man’s harangue, while Theophilus maintained the apologetic air of the official bound against his will by departmental rules of procedure. Daphne had turned away and, staring out of the long window at the dripping yews on the lawn, was silhouetted black and slender against the light. Miss Wilkin, forgotten, sat in a far corner still dabbing her eyes and wondering how she could bear the terrifying independence assured her by her legacy of one hundred and fifty pounds a year free of income lax.
The sprawling clock on the mantelpiece, incongruously embraced by adipose Cupids, struck three. Mr. Widdington started. His three-twenty train! He must fly. He made hasty adieux.
“Dear Miss Daphne,” sa
