He leaned down, hating her for the ridiculousness of his situation. He did not glance round again. The gray-haired maid showed him out.
CHAPTER IX
With a sigh of relief, Mrs. Milo rose, adjusted her bonnet, and, to make sure that her appearance justified her going out upon the street, took up from the table that same hand-mirror which she had thrust before Clare's face. "So she's gone," she observed. She turned her head from side to side, delicately touching hair and bonnet, and the lace at her throat. "Well, it's for the best, I've no doubt.—And now we can go home."
Sue did not move. She had come back from her quick survey of the rear yard to stand at the center of the front room—to stand very straight, her head up, her eyes wide and fixed on space, her face strangely white and stern.
"Susan?" Mrs. Milo took out and replaced a hairpin.
Sue Stirred. "Do you mean to his home?" she asked slowly.
"I mean to the Rectory." The glass was laid back upon the table.
"After what you've said?"
"What I said was true."
"Ah!—You believe in speaking—the truth?"