“Do you recognize the rooms?”
“Not the large one,” said Grace perplexedly. “I cannot place it at all. But the other must be our—my—bedroom: the telephone is there, as she says. And you say she saw Roger there!”
“Yes, that’s the very last thing; you are to think of that, dear Mrs. Carling, whatever may happen. No matter how dark things may be, the light will come—the ‘great protection’ will be over you both all the time. So you will never lose courage, even for a moment, will you? Oh, I am so glad you came!”
“You dear child!” cried Grace, and kissed her.
“And now I am going to see you home—you are tired to death. Well, only to the station then, if you will have it so. And I may come and see you soon? We will be friends, real friends, won’t we?”
When she arrived home, still musing over this strange, almost incredible, episode, Grace found Miss Culpepper—also playing “patience”—with a cheerful fire, a dainty little supper, and a loving welcome.
“What a long day you’ve had, my dear. You must be worn out,” she said, fluttering round and helping her remove her wrap.
“Yes, it has been long, but very interesting. And how have you got on? Did Mr. Thomson come to tea?”
“Y-e-s—oh, yes, though he didn’t stay very long. Sir Robert is not so well, and he was anxious to return. He brought me this—a beautiful little bit of bigotry, isn’t it?”