Mr. May put his hand to his bewildered head.
“No—no—of course not!—I—I must tell Mrs. May our daughter is alive—it will be a shock—of surprise——”
“No doubt!” said Sophy, sharply. “But she’s dead to you! Remember that! If I didn’t fear to make trouble for her I’d wire to her employer at Geneva about this pretender to her name—only it wouldn’t do any good, and I’d rather not interfere. And I advise you not to go dangling after the ‘new beauty,’ as she’s called—you really are too old for that sort of thing!”
Mr. May winced. Then he drew himself up with an effort at dignity.
“I shall endeavour to trace my daughter,” he said. “And I regret I cannot rely on your assistance, Miss Lansing! You have deceived us very greatly——”
“Twaddle!” interrupted Miss Lansing, defiantly. “You made Diana wretched—and she’d have gone on housekeeping for you till she had lost all pleasure in living,—now she’s got a good salary and a situation which is satisfactory, and I’ll never help you to drag her back to the old jog-trot of attending to your food and comfort. So there! As for this, ‘bogus’ Diana, the best thing you can do is to go and tell her you know all about it, and that she can’t take you in any more.”
“She’s the most beautiful thing ever seen!” he said, suddenly and with determination.
Sophy Lansing gave him an “all over” glance of utter contempt.
“What’s that to you if she is?” she demanded. “Will you never recognise your age? She might be your daughter—almost your granddaughter! And you want to make love to her? Bah!”
With a scornful sweep of her garments she left him, and he found his way out of the house more like a man in a dream than in a reality. He could hardly believe that what she had told him was true—that Diana—his daughter Diana, was alive after all! He wondered what effect the news would have on his wife? After so much “mourning” and expressions of “terrible shock,”—the whole drowning business was turned into something of a comedy!