Mrs. Aubray glanced self-consciously at her wedding-ring, visualized herself in her new clothes, and the graceful disposition of her wavy hair as manipulated by her new maid, and read her letters from England.
"My dearest little child,
"The house seems very sad and empty without you, especially now that Kenneth has left it too. However, it is very pleasant to think of your happiness, and no doubt you are greatly enjoying your time in Paris with your husband. Poor little Kenneth went off to school very pluckily, and showed no signs at all of feeling upset. I was vexed at receiving no telegram from him to announce his safe arrival, although I gave him the money for one when I saw him off at the station, and begged him to ask some elder boy to see to it for him the moment they arrived. I wish now that I had done this myself, as no telegram came.
"I had to send off a wire myself, with answer prepaid to the school, and received a satisfactory reply yesterday afternoon.
"Your letters are a great pleasure, and your descriptions of your sight-seeing most clever and interesting. Cousin Charlie is very kind about enlivening my solitude, and we have had some capital games of chess. Your Cousin Ethel is in London with Dorothy, and has kindly been to the new house several times to see that all is in good order for your return. She is, I believe, writing to you about this, and also to give you a piece of news, which will doubtless interest you greatly, but which is to be kept a secret at present, I understand. I will therefore say nothing further until I hear from you.
"We have had very poor weather here since you left, but I hope that Paris is in sunshine.
"My love to Nicholas and to yourself, my dear child, and may God Almighty bless you both.
"Ever your devoted Father,
"Philip Stellenthorpe."
"I hope poor Kenneth wasn't dreadfully furious at having that prepaid telegram," was Lily's reflection.