"Yes, dear." She followed him into the hall. "Aren't you going to say good-night to me, Tony?"
He kissed her coldly in silence.
"I did not know," she whispered. "It is so sudden—so unexpected. We will talk it over to-morrow, Tony."
"There's nothing to talk over," said he. And he marched off.
Mrs. Oxenham went to bed and cried. Then she thought deeply for a long time. Then she woke her husband up to talk to him.
"After all," she said, "it might have been worse. Some men, gentlemen of the highest class, marry barmaids and actresses—the vulgarest creatures. And Jenny isn't vulgar. However unsuitable she may be in other ways, personally she is a lady. That's one comfort. And—and it's very noble of him, don't you think?"
She got up early in the morning, and wrote to Jenny.
"Dear Child,—
"My brother came last night, and was in a great way to find you gone. Ask your aunt to be good enough to spare you again to us, for I want you to help me to entertain him. We are talking of a picnic to the ranges, and could not manage that without you. I am sending Dickson with the buggy. Come back with him, and your aunt can have you later.
"Your affectionate friend,
"Mary Oxenham."
This note was delivered at the bank at breakfast time, with the message that the man was waiting for an answer. Jenny took it to her room, read it, and penned the following reply with a violently shaking hand:—
"Dear Mrs. Oxenham,—
"Thank you very much for your kindness in wishing me to return to you, but I think I ought not to prolong my holiday further, now that I am quite strong again. I am sure they must be badly wanting me at home, and I have decided to go back to-morrow, with some friends of my aunt's who happen to be going down. I could not leave her to-day, as I have but just come, and the time is so short. I am very sorry you should have had the trouble of sending the buggy for nothing. Please accept my grateful thanks for all your kindness, which I shall never forget, and believe me,—
"Yours sincerely,
"Jenny Liddon."