"In the parlour. I don't know who she is.... She wants to see him."
"Wants to see ...?"
"I told her she couldn't, but she wouldn't go away. You better tell her!"
Lavery had come in and gone on upstairs. With a severe look at Nora, Mary opened the parlour door and went in. A woman who had been standing at the window turned to meet her. A woman, tall as herself, young and slender—dressed in plain black but richly dressed. A faint perfume was shaken out as she moved, from her silken clothes.
"Mrs. Carlin?... I've been waiting.... I wanted to know just how he is.... I'm a friend, I've been very anxious."
A hat with a drooping lace veil partly hid her face. She was striking, if not beautiful—a long narrow face, with intense dark eyes under straight brows, thick hair of a dark auburn colour. Her look was as direct and wilful as her words.
"He is better today—conscious for the first time, but very weak," said Mary evenly, with her stateliest manner.
"Could I see him?... Oh, I don't mean to speak to him, I know that wouldn't do.... But just to look at him for a minute?"
The request was uttered politely enough, but like a command.