The speaker turned away with a gentle sigh and began to discuss the art treasures in the drawing room with Mrs. Gordon. All the time Marion had held coldly aloof from the stranger.
"You are not like yourself to-night," Vera murmured.
Marion's dark eyes were lifted. There were purple rings under those eyes and a hunted expression on the white face. It was the face of one who has seen a terror that it is impossible to forget.
"Am I not?" she said indifferently. "Perhaps so."
"Don't you like that woman?" Vera asked.
"Frankly, I don't," Marion admitted. "But there are reasons. Strange that you don't recognize the likeness between us. Geoffrey did at once."
Vera started. Strange, indeed, that she had not noticed it before. And, now that Marion had spoken the likeness was surprising. Making allowance for the disparity of years, the two faces were the same.
"Is there another mystery?" Vera asked.
Marion smiled like her old self.
"Indeed there is," she confessed. "But it is a poor, vulgar little thing beside your family mystery. Mrs. May is a connection of mine. As a matter of fact, she is closely related to my mother's family. She is not a good woman, and I hope you will see as little of her as possible."