‘I’m afraid it’s quite out of my power. She never confided in me, and it is so long since I have seen anything of her at all.’
‘It’s best to speak plainly,’ said Beatrice, in her business tone. ‘Can’t you think of any man, in the society you introduced her to, who may be trying to lead her astray?’
‘Really, Miss. French! The society in which I move is not what you seem to suppose. If your sister is in any danger of that kind, you must make your inquiries elsewhere—in an inferior rank of life.’
Beatrice no longer contained herself.
‘Perhaps I know rather more than you think about your kind of society. There’s not much to choose between the men and the women.’
‘Miss. French, I believe you reside in a part of London called Camberwell. And I believe you are engaged in some kind of millinery business. This excuses you for ill-manners. All the same, I must beg you to relieve me of your presence.’ She rang the bell. ‘Good evening.’
‘I dare say we shall see each other again,’ replied Beatrice, with an insulting laugh. ‘I heard some one say to-day that it might be as well to find out who you really are. And if any harm comes to Fanny, I shall take a little trouble about that inquiry myself.’
Mrs. Damerel changed colour, but no movement betrayed anxiety. In the attitude of dignified disdain, she kept her eyes on a point above Miss. French’s head, and stood so until the plebeian adversary had withdrawn.
Then she sat down, and for a few minutes communed with herself. In the end, instead of going to dinner, she rang her bell again. A servant appeared.
‘Is Mr. Mankelow in the dining-room?’