Once more she sank back, exhausted, amongst her pillows. Mr. Johnson bent over her with the air of a doctor soothing a refractory patient.
“My dear neighbour,” he begged, “please believe that I am here for no evil or malicious purpose whatsoever. Under no circumstances should I ever take any course likely to bring distress upon you. I am not at all the sort of person you think I am.”
“I trust not,” she acknowledged a little wearily. “Have you taken a fancy to my companion?”
“I wouldn’t go quite so far as that,” he answered, smiling, “but I must confess that I find her a very pleasant young person. I was just off alone to Norwich and I thought that the ride there might amuse her.”
“Very well,” Madame decided, “you can take her. Come in and see me again some time. Come as often as you like. I am not altogether satisfied about you. I wish I were.”
The door was quietly opened, and Miss Besant appeared, dressed for her excursion. Madame waved her hand in a little gesture of dismissal.
“Is there anything I can do for you before I go?” the young woman asked.
“Nothing,” was the curt reply. “It will take you, I suppose, an hour to go to Norwich, an hour to frivol there, and an hour to return. See that you do not exceed that time.”
“Very good, Madame.”
“And Mr. Johnson!”