The veil shed, Lady Clifford stood revealed as a figure electric with renewed energy. Her eyes shone like grey stars, her hair, freshly waved, was glossily golden, one foot in its well-cut suede shoe tapped the floor with nervous impatience. Her hands, milky-white against the dead black of her dress, waved in the air a cheque upon which the ink was still wet. Esther caught a glimpse of the almost crimson enamelled nails, while a breath of the characteristic perfume wafted towards her.
The next instant she drew in her breath sharply, for, in a metallic voice, the Frenchwoman had informed her that her services were no longer required and that she was at liberty to leave at once.
"Yes, certainly, Lady Clifford, I will go immediately," Esther heard herself saying in a collected tone, though the blood was singing in her ears.
What was it all about? What had happened?
"I have made the cheque out for an extra week," the ringing voice continued carelessly, "since in all probability your engagement here terminated rather sooner than you expected."
"Oh, no, please, Lady Clifford, I couldn't take it, really! Will you alter the amount? I haven't earned it, you know."
"Certainly not. I must ask you to take it as it is."
"Oh, but really, I can't…" Esther continued in earnest protest, really meaning it, feeling it impossible to accept favours from this woman.
She was rudely cut short.
"Will you kindly leave me now? I have a great many things to attend to. Good-bye."