'Introduce me, Mr. Reddin!' simpered Amelia Clomber. It was painful when she simpered; her mouth was made for sterner uses.
They surveyed Hazel, who shrank from their gaze. Something in their eyes made her feel as if they were her judges, and as if they knew all about Hunter's Spinney.
They looked at her with detestation. They thought it was detestation for a sinner. Really, it was for the woman who had, in a few weeks after meeting him, found favour in Reddin's eyes, and attained that defeat which, to women even so desiccated as the Clombers, is the one desired victory.
They had come, as they told each other before and after their visit, to snatch a brand from the burning. What was in the heart of each—the frantic desire to be mistress of Undern—they did not mention.
Miss Clomber had taken exception to Amelia's tight dress. For Amelia had a figure, and Miss Clomber had not. She always flushed at the text, 'We have a little sister, and she hath no breasts.'
Amelia was aware of her advantage as she engaged Reddin in conversation. He fell in with the arrangement, for he detested her sister, who always prefaced every remark with 'Have you read—?'
As he never read anything, he thought she was making fun of him.
'And what,' asked Miss Clomber of Hazel, lowering her lids like blinds, 'was your maiden name?'
'Woodus.'
'Where were you married?'