She derived some satisfaction, however, from the idea of sending for her maid Lucie and making her uncomfortable; but on her way she met Mathilde in the hall.
“May I speak to you, Mama?” she said.
Mrs. Farron laughed.
“May you speak to me?” she said. “Why, yes; you may have the unusual privilege. What is it?”
Mathilde followed her mother into the bedroom and shut the door.
“Pete has just been here. He has been offered a position in China.”
“In China?” said Mrs. Farron. This was the first piece of luck that had come to her in a long time, but she did not betray the least pleasure. “I hope it is a good one.”
“Yes, he thinks it good. He sails in two weeks.”
“In two weeks?” And this time she could not prevent her eye lighting a little. She thought how nicely that small complication had settled itself, and how clever she had been to have the mother to dinner and behave as if she were friendly. She did not notice that her daughter was trembling; she couldn’t, of course, be expected to know that the girl’s hands were like ice, and that she had waited several seconds to steady her voice sufficiently to pronounce the fatal sentence:
“He wants me to go with him, Mama.”