"Don't despair; things may turn out better than you think."
"They can't," she declared fretfully. "I shall go away."
"What a pity! Miss Gainsborough—Lady Tristram, I mean—will miss you so much."
"Let her!" said the Imp ungraciously. "I've put myself out enough about the Tristrams."
Neeld forbore to remind her of the entirely voluntary nature of her sacrifices; after all he was not the man to throw stones on that account.
"Wait a few days anyhow," he urged her. In a few days something must happen.
"A few days? Oh, yes!" As a matter of fact she meant to stay all the winter. "She's started," she went on, with an irritated jerk of her head toward the Long
Gallery, "putting all the things in different places and rearranging everything."
"I should imagine that Mr Gainsborough's enjoying himself then?"
"She doesn't let him touch a thing," replied Mina with a fleeting smile. "He just stands about with a duster. That contents him well enough, though. Oh, yes, I shall go. The Broadleys won't care about me, and Cecily won't want me long."