"Yes, last evening."
"Shall we sit over here?" said Mrs. Lepell, indicating a settee a little apart. Her visit was to the stranger, whose acquaintance she was now really anxious to make. She particularly disliked Mrs. Chandos, and if there was one young woman who was more obnoxious to her than Dominga, it was Blanche Montagu Jones. The family accepted the hint with obvious reluctance, and stood aloof in a group, whispering, giggling and wrangling.
"I believe you have never been in India since you were a small child," continued Mrs. Lepell, addressing her companion.
"No, I do not remember it; I have lived in Europe for twenty years."
"Ah, I wonder what you will think of us all!"
Verona raised her eyes to her visitor, then dropped them hastily, but not before Mrs. Lepell had caught their look of unspoken despair.
"I am quite an old Anglo-Indian," she continued briskly. "I loathed the country at first, now I am much attached to it; the cold weather will be here in another few weeks. You will enjoy that, it is our gay season."
Here it seemed to Mrs. Lepell that her companion gave a slight involuntary shudder.
"I am sure you will wonder at the way these mad girls are giggling," said Mrs. Chandos, with a would-be jaunty air, as she approached and indicated Dominga and Pussy. "They are awfully smart, and have been trying on their sister's kind presents."
"Why, mother," interposed Blanche (who had no fear of Mrs. Lepell, her husband not being in the factory), "Pussy tells me that besides the beautiful presents she brought out, you divided all Verona's best gowns between her and Dominga!"