It was the voice of the one person who would understand and help and solace her—a voice she could never hear again in this world, strong, tender, and clear.
“Oh, mother!” she cried.
“Ethel!”
It came again, and not the voice of a spirit, but real, and close at hand.
“It’s some one in that taxi,” whispered Ladislaw. “Better not answer.”
“But it’s grandmother!” said Ethel, astounded.
She flew to the old lady like a stone from a catapult.
“Grandmother, what are you doing here?” she demanded, wild with delight and relief.
“Nothing!” replied the old lady serenely. “Present your friend to me.”
“I—” began Ethel.