“Why not?”
“Adela—he loves you. Everyone knows that.”
“And that’s just why I could tell him—him only.”
Miss Van Tuyn looked down. Suddenly she felt that she had tears in her eyes.
“You have kept your cab, haven’t you?” said Lady Sellingworth.
“Yes.”
“Go home now. I will telephone to Seymour. I’ll let you know later—to-morrow morning perhaps—what he thinks had better be done. Now, good night, Beryl!”
She held out her hand. Beryl took it, but did not press it. Somehow she felt awed, and at a distance from this pale quiet woman.
Lady Sellingworth touched the bell, and Beryl Van Tuyn left the room.