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Updated: May 24, 2025
Hélène came to the door on silent, felt-shod feet, a black-and-white picture of well-trained servility. "Pardon, Madame, Tojiko says that Mlle. Sommerville wishes to see Mlle. Sylvie." Mrs. Marshall-Smith looked with considerable apprehension at her niece. "You must get it over with some time, Sylvia.
Marshall-Smith told Morrison frankly, in this connection, that she had tried to select a present which Molly herself would enjoy. "Am I not to have a present myself?" asked Morrison. "Something that you selected expressly for me?" "No," said Sylvia, dropping the sugar into his tea with deliberation. "You are not to have any present for yourself."
On such an afternoon in January, the usual routine had been preserved. The last of the callers, carrying off Mrs. Marshall-Smith with her, had taken an urbane, fair-spoken departure. Sylvia turned back from the door of the salon, feeling a fine glow of conscious amenity, and found that Austin Page's mood differed notably from her own. He had lingered for a tête-
There was no reason why some one more keenly on his guard could not live as they did and escape sounding that dissonant note! The music stopped. Morrison turned on the stool and seeing her bent head and moody stare at the fire, sent an imploring glance for help to Mrs. Marshall-Smith. Just let her have the wealth and leisure and let her show how worthily she could use it!
"Well, whatever route he took, it is astonishing that he knew the way to Lydford at all," commented Mrs. Marshall-Smith. "It's my confounded shyness," he explained, turning to Sylvia with a twinkle. "The grand, sophisticated ways of Lydford are too much for the nerves of a plain-living rustic like me. When I farm in Vermont the spirit of the place takes hold of me.
She beckoned the man to her, and said, "Marshall-Smith? Marshall? Morrison?" The man sorted over his pile. "Cable for Miss Marshall," he said, presenting it to the younger lady with a bold, familiar look of admiration. "Letter for F. Morrison: two letters for Mrs. Marshall-Smith."
The only change a keen eye could have noted was that now there was about her an atmosphere of slightly rigid dignity, which had not been there before. She seemed less girlish. No eyes could have been more keenly analytical than those of Mrs. Marshall-Smith. She saw perfectly the new attribute, and realized perfectly what a resolute stiffening of the will it signified.
Marshall-Smith had, for a moment, chanced to leave them alone, Pauline had given her a sudden embrace, and had told her: "At 'ome zere are four leetle brozers and sisters. America is a place mos' solitary!" "What did Pauline do?" asked Sylvia again as Arnold did not answer. The boy looked down. "Pauline just cried and cried," he said in a low tone. "I liked Pauline! She was awful good to me.
"One might do without bread, possibly?" suggested Morrison, pressing the tips of his beautiful fingers together. This was getting nowhere. Mrs. Marshall-Smith put her hand to the helm, and addressed herself to Morrison with a plain reminder of the reason for the grotesqueness of his irritability. "Where's Molly keeping herself nowadays?" she inquired.
Sylvia stood quite still, feeling immeasurably and bitterly alone. She said to herself: "Mother is very sick. I must go home at once. Judith." But she did not know what she said. She felt only an impulse to run wildly away from something that gave her intolerable pain. Mrs. Marshall-Smith turned over a page of her letter, smiling to herself, and glanced up at her niece.
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