Then I noticed that Mrs. Sardis had stayed behind; she was examining some lustre ware in the further drawing-room.
‘I’m afraid Jocelyn has gone without her mother,’ I said, approaching her.
‘I have told Jocelyn to go home alone,’ replied Mrs. Sardis. ‘The carriage will return for me. Dear friend, I want to have a little talk with you. Do you permit?’
‘I shall be delighted,’ I said.
‘You are sure you are well enough?’
‘There is nothing whatever the matter with me,’ I answered slowly and distinctly. ‘Come to the fire, and let us be comfortable. And I told Emmeline Palmer, my companion and secretary, who just then appeared, that she might retire to bed.
Mrs. Sardis was nervous, and this condition, so singular in Mrs. Sardis, naturally made me curious as to the cause of it. But my eyes still furtively wandered to the door.
‘My dear co-worker,’ she began, and hesitated.
‘Yes,’ I encouraged her.
She put her matron’s lips together: