It was obviously Christina’s duty also, but she made no haste to fulfill it. She lived her own way entirely; her mother was quietly uncomfortable, and she herself was most uncomfortable.
“I shall have to go to a hotel,” she said, irritably, to herself, as a second day dragged its weary length to a close. She did not understand why Valentine did not come. He had gone to Dynechester, she knew that; but he had said he should only be in Dynechester a day, and still he did not come or write.
There was absolutely nothing to amuse Lady Wentworth.
She might have gone to see her sister, Mrs. Kestridge; but Chrissie and Winnie had never been friends, and Chrissie felt that under existing circumstances, she would find little satisfaction in meeting Hubert Kestridge’s wife.
Winnie carefully refrained from visiting her mother’s house, now that her husband had left her for his tour abroad. She was not much moved by what her mother might or might not say; but she had no desire to meet Polly just then, for Winifred’s jealousy of Polly had become a mania, and the very fact of Hubert’s departure, of all the nasty things she had said, made this jealousy deeper.
Later on the afternoon of this second day Lady Wentworth drove to call upon Miss Ambleton. She was relieved to hear that Grace was out, and she asked for Mr. Ambleton, and Sacha came down.
Sacha had an air of latent mischief about him.
“Is it Valentine you want, or myself?” he asked.
“I want to speak to your brother,” Christina said, a little coldly. She was beginning to dislike Sacha.
“Ah!” said Sacha. “How unfortunate, you have just missed him; but, I believe, if you drive back to your mother’s house you may find him. I know he was going there. Shall I tell the man to take you straight home again?”