When they were gone, Mrs Lascelles went to the window, where her daughter was standing.
“There’s something the matter, Kitty,” she said, putting her hand on her shoulder.
“Yes, mother, there is,” returned the girl gravely.
Neither of them spoke for a little while, for Mrs Lascelles never extracted confidences. Kitty sighed.
“To tell you the truth,” she said, “I can’t be sure whether I had better say it out or not.”
“And I can’t help you,” said Mrs Lascelles, with a laugh.
“You see, mother, so far as I am concerned, it would be the greatest relief; but Bell thinks that by repeating it will be made of more importance, and I don’t know that she isn’t right.”
“Well,” said her mother, after a pause, “I trust you entirely, Kitty.”
“I believe I must tell you,” said the girl, “and then you must decide whether it should go any farther.” For in her heart of hearts, Kitty knew that her father was not the safest person in the world for such a confidence, and knew that her mother was aware of it, too. “It is about the model.”
Mrs Lascelles looked uneasy.