“That must be Clare!”
“Oh, if it is only Clare!” said Mrs. Heywood. When Mrs. Hargreaves had struck a few soft chords on the piano there was the sound of voices speaking loudly in the hall. Everybody listened, surprised at the interruption. Mollie’s voice could be heard quite clearly.
“I told you it was our At Home night, Miss Vernon.”
“I can’t help that.”
The drawing-room door opened, sans ceremonie, and Madge Vernon came in. Her face was flushed, and she had sparkling eyes. She stood in the doorway looking at the company with a smile, as though immensely amused by some joke of her own.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you good people,” she said very cheerfully, “but I have come on urgent business, which brooks no delay, as they say in melodrama.”
Mrs. Heywood gazed at her with frightened eyes.
“My dear!... What has happened?”
“What’s the matter?” said Herbert, turning very pale.
“Oh, it’s nothing to be alarmed at,” said Madge Vernon. “It’s about your wife.”