‘Why do you ask me, if you know? What about it?’
As usual when performing the operation which, in her, answered to thought, Fanny shuffled with her hands on her waist. At a distance from Beatrice she stood still, and said:
‘Some one I know is going there. I’ve a good mind to go too. I want to see abroad.’
Her sister asked several searching questions, but Fanny would not make known whether the friend was male or female.
‘I shouldn’t be much surprised,’ remarked the woman of business, indifferently, ‘if you go and make a fool of yourself before long. That Mrs. Damerel is up to some game with you; any one could see it with half an eye. I suppose it isn’t Lord that’s going to Brussels?’
Fanny sputtered her disdain.
‘If you had any common sense,’ pursued her sister, ‘you’d stick to him; but you haven’t. Oh yes, you think you can do better. Very well, we shall see. If you find yourself in a hole one of these days, don’t expect me to pull you out. I wouldn’t give you a penny to save you from the workhouse.’
‘Wait till you’re asked. I know where all your money ‘ll go to. And that’s into Crewe’s pocket. He’ll fool you out of all you have.’
Beatrice reddened with wrath. But, unlike the other members of her family, she could command her tongue. Fanny found it impossible to draw another word from her.
On returning from the police-station, haggard and faint with excitement, but supported by the anticipation of fresh attacks upon her husband, Ada immediately learnt what had happened. For the first moment she could hardly believe it. She rushed upstairs, and saw that the child was really gone; then a blind frenzy took hold upon her. Alarming and inexplicable sounds drew her sisters from below; they found her, armed with something heavy, smashing every breakable object in her bedroom—mirrors, toilet-ware, pictures, chimney-piece ornaments.