“Who is dead. This girl is helping to support his widow and two other children, one a confirmed invalid. They are very poor.”
“Then leave them in their poverty, I charge you.”
Mrs. Lambert spoke with unusual warmth. The subject had disturbed her greatly. Something more deep and subtle than her indomitable pride had been touched, of which she was even herself unconscious.
CHAPTER XXIX.
MISS SPICER.
A card was brought into the dainty boudoir in which Mrs. Lambert was conversing with her son. This was followed so quickly by Miss Lucy Spicer, that there was no possibility of refusing her admission, even if the occupants of the room had desired it. But her presence was welcome to the lady, for she arose promptly to receive her guest, glad to escape a subject which was hateful to her.
“Looking younger and more lovely than ever!” exclaimed Miss Spicer, after kissing the lady with enthusiasm. “I wonder if it will be possible for me to grow handsomer as I grow older? Of course not. It’s only one or two women in a generation that can do that.”
Here Miss Spicer seemed to become suddenly aware of Ivon’s presence, and addressed him.
“Now this is a treat, Mr. Lambert; one never expects to find you at home; but here, with mamma, in this bijou of a room, is a surprise. Come, now, let us make up before the maternal ancestor. It wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t, for the life of me, help seeing you, and that abominably handsome shop-girl. Why didn’t you take a back street?”
“Then it was Miss Spicer. I could not imagine who had done me the honor of reporting my movements,” said the young man, bowing low.
“Angry, ha! Don’t like people to make a note of his little escapades. Well, it isn’t quite fair. But when one overleaps all the barriers of society so bravely, of course, he must expect it to be known.”