Marion Vincent rose feebly. And as she stood, leaning on the chair, she touched the folds of Diana's white dress.
"When shall I see you again?--and that dress?"
"I shall be in London in May," said Diana, eagerly--May I come then? You must tell me where."
"Ah, you won't come to Bethnal Green in that dress. What a pity!"
Diana helped her to her room, where they shook hands and parted. Then Diana came back to her own quarters. She had put out the electric light for Miss Vincent's sake. The room was lit only by the fire. In the full-length mirror of the toilet-table Diana saw her own white reflection, and the ivy leaves in her hair. The absence of her mourning was first a pain; then the joy of the evening surged up again. Oh, was it wrong, was it wrong to be happy--in this world "where men sit and hear each other groan"? She clasped her hands to her soft breast, as though defending the warmth, the hope that were springing there, against any dark protesting force that might threaten to take them from her.
CHAPTER VI
"Henry," said Mrs. Roughsedge to her husband, "I think it would do you good to walk to Beechcote."
"No, my dear, no! I have many proofs to get through before dinner. Take Hugh. Only--"
Dr. Roughsedge, smiling, held up a beckoning finger. His wife approached.