“Your mother?” said Patty.
“My mother died when I was a child,” said Lady Hamilton, and at once Patty felt a new bond of companionship.
“I lived alone with my father, in our great house in London, and I had a happy and uneventful life, until Cecil came. Since his death, I’ve longed so to go home to my father, and be at peace with him, but though many kind friends have tried to bring about a reconciliation, they haven’t been able to do so.”
“And so you live here alone at the Savoy?”
“Yes, with Mrs. Betham, who is really an old dear, though sometimes she grumbles terribly.”
“And do you go into society?”
“I’ve begun to go a little, of late. Cecil made me promise I’d never wear black dresses, so I’ve worn white only, ever since he died, and I suppose I always shall. That is, in the house. I have black street gowns. But I can’t seem to care for gay parties as I used to. I want father, and I want my home.”
“Oh, yes; he’s a Member of Parliament. But he’s of a stubborn and unyielding nature.”
“And so are you?”