Gladys observed her with curious eyes; then she held open the dining-room door.
"I'm at breakfast; but, if you don't mind, you'd better come in here."
Mabel went in, Gladys followed. The stranger, now that they were alone, presented such a woebegone picture that, in spite of herself, Gladys was moved.
"You don't seem well--are you ill? Hadn't you better sit down?--here's a chair."
She pushed the chair towards her visitor, but Mabel would none of it.
"No, it doesn't matter, I'd--I'd rather stand. My mother was Mr. Elmore's--landlady."
"Joyce? Oh, yes, of course, I thought I knew the name; I remember." Perhaps unconsciously to herself, Gladys's tone hardened; she drew herself a little straighter, she even moved a little away. In spite of her obvious trouble, Mabel noticed.
"You needn't be afraid of me--I shan't bite."
"I was not afraid that you would bite. What is it you wish with me, Miss Joyce?"
"That."