A clock in the church tower chimed the half-hour.
“We dine at seven,” said Mrs. Capella. “Let us return to the house. I told the housekeeper to prepare a room for you. Would you care to remain for the night? One of the grooms can bring from Stowmarket any articles you may need.”
Brett declined the invitation, pleading a certain amount of work to be done before he retired to rest, and his expectation of finding letters or telegrams at the hotel.
They walked more rapidly up the avenue, and the barrister noted the graceful ease of Margaret’s movements.
“Is it a fact” he asked, “that you suffer from heart disease?”
She laughed, and said, with a certain charming hesitation:
“You are both doctor and lawyer, Mr. Brett. My heart is quite sound. I have been foolish enough to seek relief from my troubles in morphia. Do not be alarmed. I am not a morphinée. I promised Nellie yesterday to stop it, and I am quite certain to succeed.”
The dinner passed uneventfully.
As Brett was unable to change his clothes, neither of the ladies, of course, appeared in elaborate costumes.
Helen wore a simple white muslin dress, with pale blue ribbons. Margaret, mindful of the barrister’s hint concerning her attire, now appeared in pale grey crêpe de chine, trimmed with cerise panne velvet.