It was unanswerable. Patricia flushed, staring.
At this moment, while the two of them were mutually speechless with active hostility, Lucy, interpreting liberally Patricia's welcome to "anybody," and also possibly rather intrigued by the appearance of the caller, personally ushered into the room a second visitor. It was Claudia. She had crossed the landing with a single impetuous step, and her eagerness brought fresh air into the stuffy little room. Her tallness, her dark complexion, the rich crimson of her astrakhan-trimmed cloak, were all such as to make her distinguished. There was animation in Claudia's face which showed her health and tranquillity. The quick immature grace of her movement was lovely. She was free from all self-consciousness. Only at sight of Amy—stricken by contrast into absolute sickliness of appearance—did she pull up short.
"Oh," she gasped. "I didn't know.... Sorry!"
"Come in!" Even to Patricia it was evident that Claudia's entry had brought radiance to the room. She hurried across to greet her. "This is my friend Amy Roberts—Miss Mayne."
"I'll go," cried Amy, rising from the armchair.
"No, no. Don't be silly." "Oh, don't ... I shall feel...." There were two protests. But Amy was injured, wounded.
"Yes. I've said all I'd got to say. And listened to some plain speaking. Very plain. And I must get back to my studio. I'll astonish everybody yet! I'm an artist, Miss Mayne, and I can't leave my work for long." She fumbled with her cloak.
"But I shall feel I've driven you away!" cried Claudia, with a puzzled smile.
"You needn't." Amy was brusque in the effort to be dignified; and as she flung on her cloak and hat she gave Claudia a frigid smile. "I was just going in any case." And with that she went to the door. "Good-bye."
"Excuse me." Patricia's glance of reassurance led Claudia to remain, and, as the two others disappeared, to remove her own cloak, and to await Patricia's return. She looked quickly round the shabby room—at the typewriter, the table-cover, the rug, the stained wall-paper, and the glass with the gilt frame. Then she went to the window to glance at the dingy outlook, and returned to sniff the gas-fire.