“None whatever. I have very few friends anywhere.”
“You will have plenty soon,” Miss Dormer philosophically remarked. “I understand you were Lady Quaintree’s companion?”
“Yes. I have been with her since I was fourteen.”
“Are you a relative?”
“Oh! dear no. My mother was—was born in quite a different station. She was an embroideress. But she died, and Lady Quaintree was good enough to take an interest in me, and become my protectress.”
“How kind! She is a dear, good soul. And so now you are a great heiress. You had some rich relations, then?”
“I don’t think I had a relative in the world except my dear mother,” said Lois, a little sadly.
Blanche Dormer opened her eyes. Miss Dormer was related to half the wealthy commons of England.
“No relations!” she exclaimed, forgetting that she was guilty of an outrageous breach of good manners in thus expressing surprise. “How very strange! I thought you had inherited this place and sacks of money from your uncle.”
Lois shook her head.