"Yes, my lady," he said.
She smiled, knowing she was right.
"I will see her alone," she said. "His lordship will come back later—Lord Alston, I mean."
Lady Ardingly appeared; her face was slightly more impressionist than usual, as the hour was early. Marie stood on the hearth-rug; it occurred to neither of them to shake hands.
"Ah, my dear, it is terrible for you," said Lady Ardingly. "It is quite terrible, and they all ought to be whipped. But"—and she looked at Marie—"but you are marvellous! Long ago something of the same kind happened to me, and I was in tears for days—swollen-eyed, all sorts of ghastly things. Please let me have a cigarette. I am terribly upset."
Marie handed her the box, Lady Ardingly lit one. The little person in Marie's brain told her that it smelt delicious. But the greater lobes were now beginning to work; the apathetic mist was clearing.
"You have seen Jack?" she said. "He drove with you here, did he not?"
"Yes, my dear. How quick of you to guess! Jack is distraught. But tell me, what did you see or hear? You had a bad headache; you were in your room. What else?"
"I felt better. I went into the garden," said Marie. "I saw—sufficient."
"Ah, what stupid fools!" ejaculated Lady Ardingly, not meaning to say anything of the kind.