She looked at Beatrice with undisguised interest, but without speaking for some moments. Equally frank was the interest that was apparent on the face of Beatrice, as she went forward to meet and to greet her visitor.
She had heard that Mrs. Mowbray’s set of sables had cost someone—perhaps even Mrs. Mowbray herself—seven hundred guineas.
“Thank you, I will not sit down,” said Mrs. Mowbray. “I feel that I must apologize for this call.”
“Oh, no,” said Beatrice.
“Oh, yes; I should,” said Mrs. Mowbray. “I will do better, however, for I will make my visit a short one. The fact is, Miss Avon, I have heard so much about you during the past few months from—from—several people, I could not help being interested in you—greatly interested indeed.”
“That was very kind of you,” said Beatrice, wondering what further revelation was coming.
“I was so interested in you that I felt I must call upon you. I used to know Lady Innisfail long ago.”
“Was it Lady Innisfail who caused you to be interested in me?” asked Beatrice.
“Well, not exactly,” said Mrs. Mowbray; “but it was some of Lady Innisfail’s guests—some who were entertained at the Irish Castle. I used also to know Mrs. Lampson—Lord Fotheringay’s daughter. How terrible the blow of his death must have been to her and her brother.”
“I have not seen Mrs. Lampson since,” said Beatrice, “but—”