— 23 —As Mrs. Sacret entered the hall at the Old Priory, the dinner bell rang and Susan came hurriedly out of the dining room. “Don’t change—as you are leaving tomorrow—that dress is very pretty—where have you been?” she exclaimed all in a breath; she looked worn and untidy in an expensive taffeta gown carelessly put on, her abundant blond curls falling carelessly from the crooked combs.
“Making use of the landau for the last time,” smiled Mrs. Sacret. “Making a few purchases.” She held up some elegant packages as Martin Rue came along the passage, and her eyes asked a question that Susan answered in a nervous whisper—“I haven’t got the money—but—”
The young man drew his wife away toward the dining room. For all his friendly smile, the action was an insult that the widow felt furiously.
