"Such a long and dear talk I had with her," she went on, "and she begged, if it did not hurt me too much, to bring down all the memoirs that I have written to read to her quietly. After she had gone I bought the soap and the other little things I wanted, which were even cheaper than I had anticipated, and you never would guess, dear, how I came back here. Perhaps you will scarcely believe it when I tell you, for I got on the top of a 'bus, with my great box of soap and my other parcels, and came all the way right to the Chelsea Town Hall for threepence, not counting the sixpence with which I tipped the conductor, who was most obliging and helped me with my things. Really very polite! In spite of my packages, he of course saw I was not just a common woman like the rest of the passengers, and I hesitated whether I ought to have given him a shilling. But I have never enjoyed making a little economy and denying myself comforts more than I did when I got up on that 'bus."
No, it was not the 'bus ride, so thought Elizabeth, that had produced this exhilaration and pleasure. She waited.
"But before I got up on to my 'bus I gave myself just a little treat," Mrs. Fanshawe proceeded, "and went into one of those electric palaces, as they call them, where you see the cinematograph. I was not quite sure whether it was the sort of thing that is thought respectable, and so I looked pretty closely at the programme before I entered. But I need not have been afraid; I never saw anything more refined, and you and I will go together one of these days, dear. So cheap, too; only a shilling. Why, you could go every day for a week and not spend more than in one evening in the dress-circle at the theatre."
Mrs. Fanshawe looked up at Elizabeth with that glance of soft, shy helplessness which many men found so provocatively feminine and pleading, and called forth the instinct of protection in their somewhat unobservant minds. For, on the whole, nobody was less in need of protection than she; she was almost aggressively able to take care of herself.
"And I didn't have to carry my parcels after all," she said, "from where the 'bus stopped, for whom should I see just coming out of the chemist's there but that dear Sir Henry Meyrick, who was Commander-in-Chief in India. Do you remember? He came home only a couple of days ago on leave, and will be here till January. He stayed with us once at Peshawar, darling, in those happy, happy days!"
Mrs. Fanshawe took out her handkerchief and dabbed the corners of her eyes. This was a piece of ritual that had lost its practical significance (for there was not the semblance of moisture there), and was merely the outward and visible sign of an inward grief.
"I stayed with him afterwards at Simla," she said, "and got, oh, so fond of him! It was while I was staying there, you know, that the news came that caused my poor heart to break. My dear, he was like a woman for tenderness to me, and yet he had the strength of a man; and I can never, never forget what I owe dear Sir Henry. If it had not been for him I am convinced I should quite have broken down, or even made away with myself."
Elizabeth felt sure that she had here the origin of the wonderful rise in her stepmother's spirits. And an idea, horrible to contemplate, came close to her and stared her in the face. She resolutely turned away from it.
"Yes, I remember him quite well," she said. "I thought you found him rather foolish and ridiculous."
"Foolish and ridiculous!" said Mrs. Fanshawe, with great energy. "I cannot imagine what you mean, Elizabeth. You must be confusing him with some one else."