Hester appeared on foot, having had to dismiss her cab at the gate; Miss Vavasor, who had remained seated in her carriage; got down as soon as she saw her, and having sent it away, advanced to meet her with a smile: she was perfect in skin-hospitality.
"How long is it now," she began, "since you saw Gartley?"
"Three weeks or a month," replied Hester.
"I am afraid, sadly afraid, you cannot be much of a lover, not to have seen him for so long and look so fresh!" smiled Miss Vavasor, with gently implied reproach, and followed the words with a sigh, as if she had memories of a different complexion.
"When one has one's work to do,—" said Hester.
"Ah, yes!" returned Miss Vavasor, not waiting for the sentence, "I understand you have some peculiar ideas about work. That kind of thing is spreading very much in our circle too. I know many ladies who visit the poor. They complain there are so few unobjectionable tracts to give them. The custom came in with these Woman's-rights. I fear they will upset everything before long. But I hope the world will last my time. No one can tell where such things will end."
"No," replied Hester. "Nothing has ever stopped yet."
"Is that as much as to say that nothing ever will stop?"
"I think it is something like it," said Hester.
"We know nothing about the ends of things—only the beginnings."