"I say, I never saw anybody so pretty in all my life. It is the nicest face; just what Constance's used to be. I thought it was Constance, you know. Was she not daft, though, to go and take up again with that miserable William Yorke?"
Standing by, having looked on with a smile of grand pity mingled with amusement, was a lady in the most fashionable attire, the amount of hair on her head something marvellous to look at.
"I should have known Roland Yorke anywhere," she said, holding out her hand.
"Why, if I don't believe it's one of the Joliffes!"
"Hush, Roland," said Annabel, hastening to stop his freedom, and the tone proved that she had nearly forgiven him on her own score. "This is Mrs. Bede Greatorex."
"Formerly Louisa Joliffe," put in that lady. "Now do you know me?"
"Well, I never met with such a strange thing," cried Roland. "That makes three--four--of the old Helstonleigh people I have met today. Hurst, Mrs. J., and now you two. I think there must be magic in it."
"You must come and see me soon, Roland," said Mrs. Greatorex as she went out. Miss Channing waited for the little girl, Jane Greatorex, who had run in her wilful manner into her uncle Bede's office. Roland offered to fetch her.
"Thank you," said Miss Channing. "Do you know which is the office?"
"Know! law bless you!" cried Roland. "What do you suppose I am, Annabel? Clerk to Greatorex and Greatorex."