She must have had a very unlovely existence in his mother's house.
Mrs. Brenton came back at that moment, and Haverford told her what he had arranged.
"Well, I dare say that will be all right, but I cannot part with Miss Graniger till to-morrow, or perhaps a day or so later," said Mrs. Brenton in her brisk, pleasant manner. "As a matter of fact, I have some ideas of my own which I should like to discuss with her. You won't mind staying with me a little while longer, will you?" she said, turning with a smile to Caroline. The girl did not answer; she bit her lip sharply.
The tears that would never come for harshness or even for sorrow rushed to her eyes now. She turned away and stood looking out of the window while Mrs. Brenton chatted on lightly to Mr. Haverford, and in a few minutes he took his leave.
"Now I must write some letters," Agnes Brenton said briskly. "My dear, do ring that bell, and we will have that table cleared, and after that we must go out, it is a shame to lose this bright morning. Just make yourself cosy by the fire, and look at these papers. Camilla sent them. She buys every newspaper going, and when she reads them is a mystery."
Caroline took the papers, but they lay in her lap untouched.
She sat looking at the roofs of the houses opposite. They were powdered with the white of a hoar frost, and the red, red sun shone from behind and made the frost a network of jewels.
A slight mist hung in the air like a veil. The sense of unreality, the delightful excitement that had held Caroline as in a spell throughout the night had sway with her again now; nothing was very tangible or distinct. Rupert Haverford had brought her spirit to earth and hard facts for a few moments, but as he had left the house the range of resentful feeling he had roused had gone with him. She even passed away from the vexation of having to be temporarily obliged to him. As she rested back in the comfortable chair, looking at the glory of the winter sky, she felt that she and happiness had really met for the first time.
"There!" exclaimed Mrs. Brenton, "my letter to Dick is written. A very long time ago I spoiled my husband," she said, looking back over her shoulder; "whenever we were apart I promised to write to him every day, and now he holds me to this bargain. I really do owe him a letter this morning, however," said Agnes Brenton, "for I came away in such a hurry with her. Mrs. Lancing insisted on bringing me up to town, and I had scarcely time to explain things, or arrange my household affairs. Happily, Dick is an old hand at housekeeping...." She broke off, and turned again in her chair.
From the staircase beyond there came all at once the sound of an important approach; there was a great stamping of feet, accompanied by observations in clear, high-pitched little voices.