“Angèle will be delighted,” she wrote, “if Elsie will remain longer than usual. It is dull for children to be cooped within doors during this miserable weather. I am asking Martin Bolland to join us for tea.”
Mr. Herbert was a kind-hearted man, yet he wished most emphatically that Mrs. Saumarez had not proffered this request. To make an excuse for his daughter’s non-attendance would convey a distinct slight which could only be interpreted in one way, after the publicity given to Angèle’s appearance at the inquest. He shirked the ordeal. Bother Angèle!
He glanced covertly at Elsie. All unconscious of the letter’s contents, the girl was looking out ruefully at the leaden sky. There might be no more picnics for weeks.
“Mrs. Saumarez has invited us to luncheon,” he said.
“When?” she asked unconcernedly.
“To-morrow. She wishes you to spend the afternoon with Angèle.”
Elsie turned, with quick animation.
“I don’t care to go,” she said.
“Why not? You know very little about her.”
“She seems to me—curious.”