"Oh, no—I'm sure he was a stranger. Extremely slight and pale, with remarkable eyes. He was so disappointed—he seemed sure of finding her."
"Well, no doubt he'll come back tomorrow.—You know we're expecting the whole party," added Mrs. Amherst, to whom the imparting of good news was always an irresistible temptation.
Mrs. Dressel's interest deepened at once. "Really? Mr. Langhope too?"
"Yes. It's a great pleasure to my son."
"It must be! I'm so glad. I suppose in a way it will be rather sad for Mr. Langhope—seeing everything here so unchanged——"
Mrs. Amherst straightened herself a little. "I think he will prefer to find it so," she said, with a barely perceptible change of tone.
"Oh, I don't know. They were never very fond of this house."
There was an added note of authority in Mrs. Dressel's accent. In the last few months she had been to Europe and had had nervous prostration, and these incontestable evidences of growing prosperity could not always be kept out of her voice and bearing. At any rate, they justified her in thinking that her opinion on almost any subject within the range of human experience was a valuable addition to the sum-total of wisdom; and unabashed by the silence with which her comment was received, she continued her critical survey of the drawing-room.
"Dear Mrs. Amherst—you know I can't help saying what I think—and I've so often wondered why you don't do this room over. With these high ceilings you could do something lovely in Louis Seize."
A faint pink rose to Mrs. Amherst's cheeks. "I don't think my son would ever care to make any changes here," she said.