"Good-bye, Theresa."
"May I kiss you? Stoop down. Lower, lower. How tall you are!" She kissed him on each cheek. "I always liked that little hollow place," she said, and left him with the sound of her sobbing breath for company.
George and Edward Webb, eating their hybrid meal at seven o'clock, were startled by the entrance of Theresa. Above her coat collar and below the veil banded across her forehead, her eyes were luminous and black-rimmed.
Edward Webb sprang up and, forgetting the restricting presence of his brother, exclaimed anxiously: "My dear, my dearest! what is the matter?"
"Nothing, dear. It's nice to see you."
"You look ill, Theresa."
"I've had a journey, and the train jolted so."
"Where's Basil?"
"In his home, I hope." She became flippant for the benefit of Uncle George. "I'd better tell you. I have resigned the situation. Do you think I can have some of your tea?"