The Frenchwoman was lying limp and still in the middle of her low, gilded bed, gazing with unseeing eyes at the rose canopy above. Her hair was pushed back ruthlessly, revealing an unsuspected height of forehead, which somewhat altered her appearance. She was very pale, a pallor with a tinge of yellow in it. She received the injection mechanically, paying scant attention to either the doctor or Esther. She gave a slight nod when the former advised her to remain in bed for a day or so, her manner suggesting the complete exhaustion which follows violent hysteria, but Esther thought the exhaustion was only physical. It seemed to her that Lady Clifford's brain was active, that she was thinking deeply.
As soon as she was free, Esther put on her hat and coat and joined Roger in the car outside. Once alone with him she somewhat reluctantly let him draw out of her exactly what had occurred that morning.
"I can't in the least understand what it was she was so furious about," she ended.
After a short silence Roger said:
"I can. In fact, I was perfectly sure she was going to kick up a hell of a row. Forgive the language! I warned my father she would."
He stopped, deliberating with a frown on his face, as though wondering how much to disclose. At last he went on with sudden resolution:
"There's no reason why I shouldn't tell you. I feel as if I'd known you quite long enough, somehow…. You see, my father recently decided to appoint me trustee of all his property. It happens to give me a good deal of power over Thérèse when he dies, or rather not so much power, in actual fact, as knowledge of her movements. She knows it to be a pure formality. I should never interfere with her, but—she hates the idea. That's all."
"Oh!" exclaimed Esther, somewhat blankly.
"You see," he went on with a shrug, "indeed, it's possible you've noticed it, she doesn't find me very sympathetic. She'd hate to have any dealings with me."
"But as much as that? If you'd seen how furious she was——"