"Loss of memory, Watson, is a fatal affliction," she said, with a smile.
"Yes, Mrs. Wrandall. I don't see 'ow it 'appened."
"It is not likely to happen again."
"No, madam."
Hetty had risen, visibly agitated.
"What shall I say to him, Sara?" she cried.
"Apparently it is he who has something to say to you," said the other, still smiling. "Wait and see what it is. Please don't neglect to say that we'd like to have him over Sunday."
"A box of flowers has just come up from the station for you, Miss," said Watson.
Hetty was very white as she passed into the house. Mrs. Wrandall resumed her contemplation of the fog-screened Sound.
"Shall I fetch you a wrap, ma'am?" asked Watson, hesitating.