“A ND this friend of your father’s? You have not heard from her yet?”
Jean and Madame de Varigny were breakfasting together the morning after Peterson’s departure.
“No. I hoped a letter might have come for me by this morning’s post. But I’m afraid I shall be on your hands a day or two longer”—smiling.
“But it is a pleasure!” Madame de Varigny reassured her warmly. “My husband and I are here for another week yet. After that we go on to St. Moritz. He is suddenly discontented with Montavan. If, by any chance, you have not then heard from Lady—Lady—I forget the name——”
“Lady Anne Brennan,” supplied Jean.
A curiously concentrated expression seemed to flit for an instant across Madame de Varigny’s face, but she continued smoothly:
“Mais, oui—Lady Brennan. Eh bien, if you have not heard from her by the time we leave for St. Moritz, you must come with us. It would add greatly to our pleasure.”
“It’s very good of you,” replied Jean. She felt frankly grateful for the suggestion, realising that if, by any mischance, the letter should be delayed till then, Madame de Varigny’s offer would considerably smooth her path. In spite of Glyn’s decision that she must join him in Paris, should Lady Anne’s invitation fail to materialise, she was well aware that he would not greet her appearance on the scene with any enthusiasm.
“I suppose”—the Countess was speaking again—“I suppose Brennan is a very frequent—a common name in England?”
The question was put quite casually, more as though for the sake of making conversation than anything else, yet Madame de Varigny seemed to await the answer with a curious anxiety.