"I wish to see her."
"She is ill, madam; not able to see any one."
"Lady Chandos would admit me. My business is of importance. In short, I must see her."
Joseph seemed to hesitate.
"I'll call Mrs. Hill, and you can see her, ma'am," he said, after a little pause. "But I feel certain you cannot be admitted to my lady."
She was ushered by Joseph into the oak parlour. A good-looking woman, as might be seen through her black Chantilly veil, dressed in a soft black silk gown and handsome shawl. She was of middle height, portly, and had a mass of fiery red hair, crêpé on the temples, and taken to the back of her head. I rose to receive her. She bowed, but did not lift her veil; and it struck me that I had seen her somewhere before.
"I presume that I have the honour of speaking to a Miss Chandos?"
"I am not Miss Chandos. Will you take a seat?"
"I grieve to hear that Lady Chandos is ill. Is she so ill that she cannot see me?"
What I should have answered I scarcely know, and was relieved by the entrance of Hill. The visitor rose.