But Mrs. Antoine plainly didn't believe me. She thought, I could see, that I was practising a repulsive parsimony on defenceless guests. It was the sorrows of the war, she concluded, that had changed Madame's nature. This was the kindest, the only possible, explanation.
Evening.
There was a knock at my door just then. I thought it must be Mrs. Antoine come to ask me some domestic question, and said Entrez, and it was Mrs. Barnes.
She has not before this penetrated into my bedroom. I hope I didn't look too much surprised. I think there could hardly have been a gap of more than a second between my surprise and my recovered hospitality.
'Oh—do come in,' I said. 'How nice of you.'
Thus do the civilised clothe their real sensations in splendid robes of courtesy.
'Dolly and I haven't driven you away from the hall, I hope?' began Mrs. Barnes in a worried voice.
'I only came up here for a minute,' I explained, 'and was coming down again directly.'
'Oh, that relieves me. I was afraid perhaps—'
'I wish you wouldn't so often be afraid you're driving me away,' I said pleasantly. 'Do I look driven?'