Mrs. Wylie smiled sympathetically, but became grave again instantaneously. Her eyes rested for a second on Brenda's face.
'Alice,' explained Brenda, coming forward to the fireplace and raising one neatly shod foot to the fender, 'does not give a very glowing account of Ceylon.'
'Nor,' added Mrs. Huston with light pathos, 'of the blessed state of matrimony.'
Mrs. Wylie drew forward a chair.
'Sit down,' she said hospitably, 'and warm yourselves. We will have some tea before you take your things off.'
'And now Alice,' she resumed, after seating herself in the softly lined cane chair near the literary table, 'tell me all ... you wish to tell me.'
'Oh,' replied the beautiful woman, removing her gloves daintily, 'there is not much to tell. Moreover, the story has not the merit even of novelty. The raw material is lamentably commonplace, and I am afraid I cannot make a very interesting thing of it. Wretched climate, horribly dull station, thirsty husband. Voilà tout!'
'To which, however,' suggested Mrs. Wylie with a peculiar intonation, 'might perhaps be added military society and Indian habits.'
The younger woman shrugged her shoulders and laughed.
'Oh no!' she exclaimed irresponsibly. 'But all that is a question of the past, and the present is important enough to require some attention.'