Mrs. Leuniger came in as Judith was tying her bonnet strings.
“Judith is coming with me,” said her mother.
Aunt Ada drifted slowly across the room to where Judith was standing. She looked at her with her miserable eyes, rubbing her hands together as she said:
“You had better write to Mr. Lee-Harrison before you go. You won’t get such an opportunity as this every day.”
Judith stared at her aunt in a sort of desperation.
She, too? Aunt Ada, who all the days of her life had known wealth, splendour, importance, and, as far as could be seen, had never enjoyed an hour’s happiness!
She looked at the dejected, untidy figure, with the load of diamonds on the fingers, the rich lace round neck and wrists, the crumpled gown of costly silk.
Aunt Ada still believed in these things then; in diamonds, lace and silk? Did not wring her hands and cry, “all is vanity!”
Hers was truly an astonishing manifestation of faith.
. . . .