Mrs. Horace Lancing was continuing to press the matter home in an aggravating way; she enumerated the many necessities her life lacked, and all that she would have done during the last few months if only her husband had cultivated prudence instead of generosity.
It suddenly dawned upon Camilla that her brother-in-law must have passed through an exceedingly unpleasant time.
"Poor Horace!" she said to herself. He was the only member of her husband's family who had shown her a particle of sympathy, and she felt honestly sorry in this moment that she should have trespassed so heavily on that sympathy.
She let the curtain slip from her fingers.
"Look here, Violet, I can't possibly do anything now, really I can't; but at Christmas I promise faithfully."
Mrs. Horace laughed.
"At Christmas! Oh yes! And when Christmas comes it will be, 'Violet dear, I am so very sorry, but can't you possibly wait till Easter?' Oh, I know ... I know!"
There were two bright patches of unbecoming colour on her cheeks; she was adjusting her veil with hands that trembled.
"You have no right to say that sort of thing!" said Camilla, hotly; "it is very unjust and very untrue."
"And you have no right to go behind my back and borrow from my husband," said Violet Lancing. Her pale eyes looked very angry. "If you wanted money so badly you might have asked grandpa, I think, or somebody else. I consider it was awfully mean of you to go to Horace, and not to let me know a word about it. We have all sorts of worries ourselves, and the boys cost us no end of money; but you are just Ned all over again, Camilla! Everything you want you must have without considering any one or anything but yourself. I used to think all the old trouble was Ned's fault, and I was awfully sorry when you were left to fight for yourself, but now I know better!"