“I am fond of it; but without knowing anything about it—in the way we’re all of us fond of the worthwhile things in our stupid set,” she added to herself—since it was obviously useless to impart such reflections to Ursula.
“But are you sure Grace is coming?” she questioned aloud.
“Quite sure. Why shouldn’t she? I wired to her yesterday. I’m giving her a thousand dollars and all her expenses.”
It was not till they were having tea in a Piccadilly tea-room that Mrs. Gillow began to manifest some interest in her companion’s plans. The thought of losing Susy became suddenly intolerable to her. The Prince, who did not see why he should be expected to linger in London out of season, was already at Ruan, and Ursula could not face the evening and the whole of the next day by herself.
“But what are you doing in town, darling, I don’t remember if I’ve asked you,” she said, resting her firm elbows on the tea-table while she took a light from Susy’s cigarette.
Susy hesitated. She had foreseen that the time must soon come when she should have to give some account of herself; and why should she not begin by telling Ursula?
But telling her what?
Her silence appeared to strike Mrs. Gillow as a reproach, and she continued with compunction: “And Nick? Nick’s with you? How is he, I thought you and he still were in Venice with Ellie Vanderlyn.”
“We were, for a few weeks.” She steadied her voice. “It was delightful. But now we’re both on our own again—for a while.”
Mrs. Gillow scrutinized her more searchingly. “Oh, you’re alone here, then; quite alone?”