She had changed suddenly, from a demure and rather frigid maiden to a loving and anxious woman. Perhaps the signet-ring on her middle finger was a magic ring, and had wrought the charm.
Frank's notice to quit had been so short, that he had been obliged to apply for various necessaries to Darrell, who, with Lord Watergate, had supplied him with the main features of a tropical outfit. His ship sailed that day, at noon, so there was little time to be lost. He came over at an unconscionably early hour to Number 20B, for there was much to be said and little opportunity for saying it.
Lucy, displaying a truly feminine mixture of the tender and the practical, packed his bag, strapped his rugs, and put searching questions as to his preparations for travel. Already, womanlike, she had taken him under her wing, and henceforward the minutest detail of his existence would be more precious to her than anything on earth.
Gertrude, when she had kissed the vivid young face in sisterly farewell, saw the lovers drive off to the station and wondered inwardly at their calmness.
Later in the day, coming into the studio, she found Lucy quietly engaged in putting a negative into the printing-frame.
"It is his," she said, looking up with a smile; "I never felt that I had a right to do it before."
At luncheon, Phyllis reminded her that to-night was the night of Mr. Darrell's conversazione at the Berkeley Galleries, for which he had sent them two tickets.
"It's no good expecting Lucy to go; you will have to take me, Gerty," she announced.
Gertrude had a great dislike to going, and she said—
"Can't Fanny take you?"