Beside the couchant lynx she stopped, startled as looked the couple she had interrupted. Within a scant foot of each other stood Dr. Willard and a woman whom, somewhere, she had seen before.
“I beg your pardon, but I——”
Dolores’s apology stumbled as the visitor turned directly toward her. An exquisite creature she was, slender in her close-wrapped blue velvet, a haloesque effect created around her silver-gold hair by the sunlight shafting from a high window. Her blue, plumed hat lay upon a nearby chair.
Dr. Willard raised a calming hand.
“My child!”
The emphasis laid on the familiar words as addressed to the girl gave them an unfamiliar ring.
Then: “Mrs. Cabot, this is my new secretary, Miss Trent.”
Dolores’ response to the introduction was automatic. She felt confused, distressed. What an evil chance to have cut short a clergyman’s advices to the great lady reported to have been prostrated already by notoriety suffered on her account! A rude return it seemed to the husband who had befriended her.
CHAPTER IX
Dolores need have felt no anxiety over what she should say. Mrs. Cabot said everything—and more.