She entered the shop. A young female assistant came forward with respectful smile, and waited her commands.
‘I wish, if you please, to see Mrs. Peak.’
‘Oh yes, madam! Will you have the goodness to walk this way?’
Too late Marcella remembered that she ought to have gone to the house-entrance. The girl led her out of the shop into a dark passage, and thence into a sitting-room which smelt of lavender. Here she waited for a few moments; then the door opened softly, and Mrs. Peak presented herself.
There was no shock. The widow had the air of a gentlewoman—walked with elderly grace—and spoke with propriety. She resembled Godwin, and this time it was not painful to remark the likeness.
‘I have come to Twybridge,’ began Marcella, gently and respectfully, ‘that is to say, I have stopped in p
