“Shall I tell Lady Lenox you are here, my lady?”
“It is not worth while, as I shall only stay a few minutes.”
And, hearing the breakfast-room door open, Lady Gwendolyn fled precipitately. The thing she could have least borne at this moment was an encounter with Lady Lenox, or any of her fast friends.
Knocking at her sister-in-law’s door, she was told to enter. Lady Teignmouth was reclining on a couch, her face as white as her embroidered peignoir, and she looked startled and surprised at this sudden apparition.
“Why, I thought you had gone back to the Grange!” she said.
“I did go back,” returned the other coldly; “but I simply changed my dress, and returned on foot, as I wished to speak to you.”
Lady Teignmouth knitted her brows, and did not seem overpleased.
“I can’t imagine what you can have to say to me of so much consequence as that, Gwen. But you do take very ridiculous notions into your head at times. However, now you are here you may as well have a cup of coffee. I sent Clémentine to get me something, and”—with evident relief—“here she comes. Now make us comfortable, Clémentine; I am dreadfully hungry. I hope you have brought enough for two.”
“There is half a chicken, and some ham, my lady.”
“And I shall take nothing but a cup of coffee,” put in Lady Gwendolyn.