"Certainly. He says there is only one house in the neighborhood he could take—"
"He has taken it." Marcia opened her right hand, in which she crushed a telegram. "Bellows has just brought me this."
Lady Coryston opened and read it.
"Have taken Knatchett for three years. Tell mother." Lady Coryston's lips stiffened.
"He has lost no time. He can vex and distress us, of course. We shall have to bear it."
"Vex and distress us! I should think he can!" cried Marcia. "Has James been talking to him?"
"I dare say," said Lady Coryston, adding, with a slight, sarcastic laugh, "James is a little too sure of being always in the right."
From which Marcia guessed that James had not only been talking to Coryston, but also remonstrating with his mother, which no doubt accounted for Lady Coryston's worn-out looks. James had more effect upon her than most people; though never quite effect enough.
Marcia stood with one foot on the fender, her gaze fixed on her mother in a frowning abstraction. And suddenly Lady Coryston, lifting her eyes, realized her daughter, and the vision that she made.
"You look very well, Marcia. Have I seen that dress before?"