"Well," said Miss Greta brightly to Madge, "I am wondering whether you will like your room. You'll find it next mine. You remember the plan I drew?"
"Oh, yes. I'll go up after tea. Simply ravenous!"
Miss Greta bent toward the girl. "We aren't fit to sit down to tea."
Wildfire turned to protest. She seemed to read in the soft face a resolution no stranger would have detected either there, or in the words, "I'm going up too, in a minute. I'll come for you." Madge went quietly out.
Through the open window only the voices from the next room were audible, not the words. Lady McIntyre was all too aware of them.
Miss Greta joined Napier at the window. "Pretty view, don't you think?" She, too, listened to those accents in the next room.
As the door opened, her eyelids fluttered, but she never looked round. The footman was back again with an excuse instead of tea.
"It's the range, m'lady. It seems,"—hurriedly he appeared to apologize for a stove suspected of an untimely desire for taking a stroll—"it seems to 'ave gone hout. But the tea won't be long. And Sir William says will Miss von Sworsenburg kindly step into the next room."