"I will go, my dear Kitty, the precise moment I see fit. If I were you I should wipe that expression from my face before Mr. Lucy comes in. He might not like it. The pocket-handkerchief might be used with advantage now—just there."
In obedience to his indication she passed her hand over the flushed tear-stain. At that moment Lucy entered with his sister.
Jane, less guarded than her brother, looked candidly, steadily at Marston, whose face instantly composed itself to reverence and devotion before her young half-spiritual presence.
Kitty's voice was scarcely audible as she murmured the ritual of introduction.
Lucy was aware of her emotion.
"I think," said he, "as Mrs. Tailleur has owned to a bad headache, Mr. Marston and I had better say good night."
Marston said it. There was nothing else left for him to say. And as he went through the door that Lucy opened for him, he cursed him in his heart.
"Jane," said Kitty.
But Jane was looking at the door through which Marston and Robert had just gone.
"Robert did that very neatly," said she. "You wanted to get rid of him, didn't you, Kitty?"