Angela dropped into a chair.
“Just run away, Marcia,” she said. “Leave me with Mrs Aldworth. Oh, Mrs Aldworth, I’m so glad Marcia let me come in. I have been longing to come to you—often and often. I have been so sorry for you; I have been thinking what a weary time you must have; I hope you will let me come often as long as I am near; I should like it so much.”
The sweet eyes looked down into the faded face of the elder woman. They seemed somehow to have a magical power to arrest the finger of time, to erase the wrinkles, to smooth out some of the constant pain. Mrs Aldworth smiled quite gladly.
“How nice you are,” she said, “and not a bit—not a bit stuck-up. I am so glad to make your acquaintance. Sit there and talk to me.”
Angela took a chair and she did talk—all about nothings, perhaps about nothings; but she still talked and Mrs Aldworth listened.
Chapter Twenty Four.
An Uneasy Conscience.
Nesta’s first day at Scarborough had been full of intense enjoyment. She had managed her escapade with great cleverness. The Griffiths were quite sure that she was going away with the consent of her parents. Mr Griffiths was kind, and pleased to have her; Mrs Griffiths was motherly; Flossie was all delight. First had come the journey; what a delicious sensation of excitement had she felt whenever the train stopped; with what more than a delicious sensation of importance she had owned to a thrill through her being at the thought that the others were anxious about her. That her own people would be trying to get her back as soon as possible but added to the sense of enjoyment.