"It would be, but you see I am going too," said Grace. "If I do not hear from Margaret soon I shall go to London to their house and wait for them there."
She spoke so confidently that Mrs. Dorriman was much relieved. With all her compassion there was so little that was congenial to her that she never could be affectionate to Grace, and she herself being of a warm-hearted nature fancied that the girl must miss it in her. She was always trying to like her, and failing.
The letter Grace wrote at intervals, and with some difficulty, reached Margaret after some delay. She was on the Rhine at Mayence, tired out with incessant travelling, and most anxious about her sister. She waited impatiently for her husband's return, he had gone out on business.
"I have heard from Grace, written after she had walked across the floor by herself. She is able to travel now. When can we get home?" she asked, as he entered the little sitting-room.
He laughed a little. "So Miss Grace is able to travel. Where does she intend going to?" he asked blandly.
Margaret's face flushed. "She is coming to us—she is to live with us."
"This is indeed news," he said, laughing—and how she had grown to hate his laugh! "There are two sides to that statement."
"You cannot surely object to my sister coming to pay me a visit."
"I am afraid I do object—between such a devoted couple as you and I," he said, with a sneer. "No third person would find it pleasant. I do not intend trying it, at any rate."
"You do not mean to say that my own and only sister may not come to me?" said Margaret, her voice faltering.