"No, miss."
"Oh, well--we must wait until mother comes in."
"Yes, miss."
She saw then a letter on the hall-table. She picked it up. It was addressed to her father, a note left by somebody. She thought nothing of that--notes were so often left; the hand-writing was exactly like her mother's, but of course it could not be hers. She went into the drawing- room.
Here the silence was oppressive. She walked up and down, looking out of the long windows at the violet dusk. Gladys came in to draw the blinds.
"Didn't mother say anything about when she'd be in?"
"No, miss."
"She left no message for me?"
"No, miss. Your mother seemed in a hurry like."
"She didn't ask where I was?"