Something like awe had smitten Julia. She remained a moment transfixed, staring after her, all exclamation hushed on her reckless lips. Then, all at once, she followed.
"Tell me who you are," she panted hysterically. "It's all nonsense, isn't it?—It's a sham?"
Lady Henrietta was watching the scene from her sofa, and so was Rackham, standing with his back to the fire. They were both far off. It was a swift and dramatic minute.
"His mother hates me," said Julia, half to herself; her hold tightened on the girl's arm. "She's capable of anything. She—What colour were his eyes?"
The question was flung at her without warning. But a man's face stood out distinct in the girl's imagination, haunting her with a clearness none of these other faces had; smiling whimsically down from his picture all this while she was letting people proclaim her his.... Somehow she was defending him, covering his hurt.
Without thinking, without a pause—
"Blue," she said.
The other woman's hand dropped. She let her go.
Susan let the velvet hangings fall heavily behind her as she came through. A kind of wonder at herself possessed her, and her knees trembled. Mechanically she traversed the hall, and began to climb the wide staircase, leaning a little as she went, on the solid oak balustrade.
On the first landing a window faced the stair, and right and left ran corridors, interminable, and equally mysterious to the stranger, who was, in a manner, lost in this unknown house. She sank down on the window-seat, set deep in the thickness of the wall.