“Yes, but—you know you do look tired. And when Susy told me just now that you meant to make the effort—”
“You came to stop me?”
“I came to tell you that you needn’t feel in the least obliged—”
“Of course. I understand that.”
There was a pause during which Leila, vaguely averting herself from her mother’s scrutiny, drifted toward the dressing-table and began to disturb the symmetry of the brushes and bottles laid out on it.
“Do your visitors know that I’m here?” Mrs. Lidcote suddenly went on.
“Do they—Of course—why, naturally,” Leila rejoined, absorbed in trying to turn the stopper of a salts-bottle.
“Then won’t they think it odd if I don’t appear?”
“Oh, not in the least, dearest. I assure you they’ll all understand.” Leila laid down the bottle and turned back to her mother, her face alight with reassurance.
Mrs. Lidcote stood motionless, her head erect, her smiling eyes on her daughter’s. “Will they think it odd if I do?”