"Do go," she said; "it is all over. I have accepted the part that is not good, and you must forget me."
CHAPTER XLI.
THE LITTLE MUMMY IN LONDON.
Two days later a little woman might have been seen paying a cabman at the door of No. 12, Prince's Mansions. She argued with him over the fare, but finally yielded to his terms, and then she tripped upstairs, throwing back her long widow's veil, which she always insisted on wearing. She reached the door which had been indicated to her as the one leading to Florence's room. She tapped, but there was no answer. She tried to turn the handle: the door was locked. Just as she was so engaged, a girl with a bright, keen face and resolute manner opened the next door and popped out her head.
"Pardon me," said Mrs. Aylmer the less, for of course it was she, "but can you tell me if my daughter Florence is likely to be in soon?"
"Your daughter Florence?" repeated the girl. "Are you Mrs. Aylmer—Florence's mother?"
"That is my proud position, my dear. I am the mother of that extremely gifted girl."
"She is out, but I daresay she will be in soon," said Edith Franks. "Will you come into my room and wait for her?"