“My dearest Helen! How perfectly lovely!”
“This is a surprise,” Helen said more quietly. Of the two she was the less surprised and far the more pleased.
“Yes—isn’t it—a surprise?”
“You didn’t expect to see me?” What had brought Angela rushing into this room, then?
Mrs. Hilary saw her blunder as soon as she made it, even while she was making it almost. She was greatly confused—a thing that did not often befall Angela Hilary. She and embarrassment rarely met.
“No,” she stammered. “No—I—uh—yes, yes, I came over to——” She was utterly at a loss now. “Well,” she went on desperately, “I happened to be passing——” She broke off suddenly, looking anxiously at the window, and then looked away from it pointedly, and hurried on with, “I came to see if, by any chance, it was you Margaret McIntyre caught a glimpse of in the grounds yesterday. But—I—I didn’t see you when I came in here. It’s so dark here, after the hall. When did you come? Are you going to stay long?”
“I came suddenly—on an impulse—to find something. I may stay. I may go back to-morrow. I don’t know. But I haven’t unpacked much.”
Mrs. Hilary seized on the pretext this offered to get rid of Helen. She had been searching her excited mind for one wildly for some moments. “Then,” she said sharply, “you must see at once that your things are properly unpacked. Nothing spoils things like being crushed in trunks. And, as for chiffons! Go at once.”
“But,” Helen began.
“At once. I insist. You must not let me keep you. I shall be all right here, and when you have finished——” She was pushing Helen towards the door.