When she reached the big house, it was no surprise to have a maid show her to her room and tell her that Miss Frink would see her in the drawing-room in an hour.
A sensitive soul would have been chilled by such a reception. Adèle Lumbard’s soul was not sensitive, but her body was, and she wholly approved of the linen in her bathroom and on her bed, fine in texture and all monogrammed. She liked the chaise longue and the luxurious chairs. Her windows looked out on heavy-leafed maples and graceful birches rising from a perfectly kept lawn. A pergola and a fountain were charmingly placed.
“If she’ll only take a fancy to me!” thought Adèle.
Those piercing eyes of Miss Frink’s studied the pretty woman who entered the room at the appointed time. Perhaps there had been stirrings of hope that the newcomer might bring reminders of the one being she had loved with all her heart. If so, the hope died. Adèle’s dark eyes and ivory skin surmounted by the fluffy, snowy hair were striking, but as unlike the cheery brown and rose of sweet Alice Ray as it was possible to imagine.
Miss Frink’s cold dry hand gave the plump smooth one a brief shake.
“Be seated, Mrs. Lumbard!”
“Oh, must you say that!” was the impulsive response. “Do call me Adèle for Grandmother’s sake.”
“I am sorry you got a divorce. I am a woman of the old school,” was the uncompromising reply.