The girl came hurriedly. Seen thus, without her hat, she looked even prettier than before. The lines of her face were delicate, and there was an appealing expression in her eyes to which a man could scarcely be indifferent. She rushed to kiss her sister.
“Oh, Teresa, I hope you did not mind! I thought I ought to have stayed, but Mrs Scott was certain you would rather I went with her, and Mr Wilbraham said he would go after you, and—and—”
“Suppose we hear what Teresa has to say?” put in Mrs Brodrick drily.
“Of course you were right to go,” said the marchesa, smiling at her sister. “You could not have done any good by staying.”
“Did you get your purse?” demanded her grandmother.
“Yes, I did—in a way. It was empty, though,” added Teresa, sitting down and taking off her hat.
“Then it was the man?”
“I suppose so. I thought so. The police were as unsatisfactory as usual, and Mr Wilbraham has gone to the questura to stir them up.” Her face darkened again, and she added inconsequently, “I rather wish he hadn’t.”
“Oh, let him,” returned her grandmother smiling. “A thief ought to be punished.”
Teresa looked at her reflectively.