“So have I; it has been a——”
Whatever Shafto was about to add was interrupted by Mrs. Muller, who pounced on his companion with a laughing apology, and handed her over to the charge of Herr Bernhard.
Two days later Mrs. Gregory and Mrs. Milward called at “Heidelberg,” and on the veranda encountered Sophy, who was hurrying out to keep an appointment to practise duets with Frau Muller.
“I’m so dreadfully sorry,” she said, when the first greetings were over, “but I must go; I’ll get back as soon as ever I can. Aunt Flora is at home.”
But when Sophy returned the visitors had already departed, leaving their hostess a good deal disturbed. Indeed, Mrs. Krauss’s languid spirits had been violently shaken. Mrs. Milward had remarked on Sophy’s changed appearance, and her tone had been hostile.
“It is very plain that Burma does not suit her,” she said. “I could not believe that any girl would have altered in so short a time; I shall write to her mother at once.”
“Oh, dear Mrs. Milward, what do you mean?”
“I should think anyone could see what I mean,” rejoined the lady, who was very angry and had heard the tale of Sophy’s heavy cares.
“The girl looks ill. I have known Sophy for years—known her since she was a small child—and I can assure you that she has never been accustomed to a strenuous indoor employment, to getting no exercise or relaxation—or ever meeting people of her own age.”
Her hostess was struck dumb; her torpid conscience suddenly awoke and condemned her; Mrs. Milward, who was immediately leaving Rangoon and had no fear of retaliation, continued with ruthless animosity: