She turned her head idly to look for Amethyst, and suddenly her heart stopped beating, and then began to throb with suffocating violence. Two figures detached themselves from the crowd, and came towards her mother. One was an insignificant little lady, sumptuously dressed, the other, a tall man with stiff moustaches and bold outlooking eyes.
“Why, it’s Tony!” exclaimed Lady Haredale, “and Mrs Fowler too! Why, it’s ages since we met! What a pleasure! How are you? when did you come to town?”
“Only last week; we have been abroad. My wife was intending to call,” said Major Fowler.
“So glad to see you! Why, the little girls will be charmed! Here’s one of your old playmates. You know, Mrs Fowler, he was always the children’s friend—Una.”
Una rose and came forward, holding out her hand.
“How d’ye do?” she said, coolly.
Major Fowler fairly started. His mental vision of Una was so different from the reality.
“Really,” he said, “I should never have known her.”
“No, I’ve grown so much,” said Una, with the languid drawl that was sufficiently familiar. “Ah, here’s Amethyst.”
Amethyst, feeling as if her namesake jewels burnt into her neck and arms, gave a cold, gracious greeting.