"Isn't it a nuisance," she said, "Mr. Darrell is going away for a long time, and doesn't know when he will be able to finish my portrait."
Gertrude started.
"Well, I suppose you always knew that he was an erratic person."
"You speak as if you were pleased, Gerty. I am very disappointed."
"Put not your trust in princes, Phyllis, nor in fashionable artists, who are rather more important than princes, in these days," answered Gertrude, secretly hoping that their relations with Darrell would never be renewed. "He has tired of his whim," she thought, indignant, yet relieved.
Mrs. Maryon opened the door to them herself.
Phyllis shuddered as they went upstairs. "That bird of ill-omen!" she cried, beneath her breath.
"Poor Mrs. Maryon. How can you be so silly?" said Gertrude, who herself had noted the long and earnest glance which the woman had cast on her sister.
In the sitting-room they found Lucy sewing peacefully by the lamplight.