“Then how can you say she is all right?”
“She is always all right; she is the sort that turns up when you least expect her. She is not specially good,” continued Ethel, who felt that she might revenge herself on Nesta’s many slights by giving Angela as poor an opinion of her as possible. She did not want Angela to like Nesta better than her. She had dim ideas of possible visits for herself to Hurst Castle. Could she possibly manage the dress part? She was intensely anxious now to lead the conversation away from Nesta to more profitable themes.
“You must have a good many people staying at Hurst Castle,” she said.
“My uncle has some guests, naturally. But tell me about your sister. When did she go?”
“I wish I could tell you. I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? But surely you can guess!”
Molly came in at that moment. She had made a frantic effort to order a supper which would be proper to set before so distinguished a guest. A fowl had been hastily popped into the oven—that would be something. People in Angela’s class, for all Molly knew to the contrary, lived on fowls.
“Molly, when did we see Nesta last?” asked Ethel.
“She was here at breakfast. I just saw her when she was rushing out of the room. I was rather late. Why do you ask?”
“Miss St. Just was anxious to know.”