Jeffrey made no answer. He watched her retreating figure until it turned in at the gate, and then he wheeled abruptly and went back. An instinct of flight was on him. Here in the open street he longed for walls, only perhaps because he knew how well everybody wished him and their kindness he could not meet.
Madame Beattie found Esther at the door, waiting. She was an excited Esther, bright-eyed, short of breath.
"Where have you been?" she demanded.
Madame Beattie took off her hat and stabbed the pin through it. Her toupée, deranged by the act, perceptibly slid, but though she knew it by the feel, that eccentricity did not, in the company of a mere niece, trouble her at all. She sank into a chair and laid her hat on the neighbouring stand.
"Where have you been?" repeated Esther, a pulse of something like anger beating through the words.
Madame Beattie answered idly: "Up to see Jeff."
"I knew it!" Esther breathed.
"Of course," said Madame Beattie carelessly. "Jeff and I were quite friends in old times. I was glad I went. It cheered him up."
"Did he—" Esther paused.
"Ask for you?" supplied Madame Beattie pleasantly. "Not a word."