“Thats who I am. At least I am what is left of Miss Susanna. You dont look overjoyed to make my acquaintance; but I was as good-looking as you once. Take my advice, Mrs. Ned: dont drink champagne. The end of champagne is brandy; and the end of brandy is——” Susanna made a grimace and indicated herself.
“I am afraid we shall disturb the house if we talk here. We had better say good-night.”
“No, no. Dont be in such a hurry to get rid of me. Come into my room with me for a while. I’ll talk quietly: I’m not drunk. Ive just slept it off; and I was coming down for some more. You may as well keep me from it for a few minutes. I suppose Ned hasnt forbidden you to speak to me.”
“Oh, no,” said Marian, yielding to a feeling of pity. “Come into my room. There is a scrap of fire there still.”
“We used to lodge in this room long ago, in my father’s time,” said Susanna, following Marian into the room, and reclining with a groan on the sofa. “I’m rather in a fog, you know: I cant make out how the deuce you come to be here. Did Ned send you to look after me? Is he in New York? Is he here?”
“No,” said Marian, foreseeing with a bitter pang and a terrible blush what must follow. “He is in England. I am alone here.”
“Well, why—? what—? I dont understand.”
“Have you not read the papers?” said Marian, in a low voice, turning her head away.
“Papers! No, not since I saw an account of my brilliant debût here, of which I suppose you have heard. I never read: I do nothing but drink. What has happened?”
Marian hesitated.