She got up and stood facing Lady Ingleton. Her face still preserved something of the coldness, but the color had deepened in the cheeks, and the expression in the eyes had changed. They looked now much less like the eyes of a “sister” than they had looked when she came into the room.
“Take off that dress and go to Constantinople!” said Lady Ingleton.
Rosamund flushed deeply, painfully; her mouth trembled, and tears came into her eyes, but she spoke resolutely.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said. “You were right to come here and to tell me. If I hate you, as you say, that’s my fault, not yours.”
She paused. It was evident that she was making a tremendous effort to conquer something; she even shut her eyes for a brief instant. Then she added in a very low voice;
“Thank you!”
And she put out her hand.
Tears started into Lady Ingleton’s eyes as she took the hand. Rosamund turned and went quickly out of the room.
Some minutes after she had gone Lady Ingleton heard rain beating upon the window. The sound reminded her of the umbrella she had “stood” in the corner of the room when Rosamund came in. It was still there. Impulsively she went to the corner and took it up; then, realizing that Rosamund must already be on her way, she laid it down on the table. She stood for a moment looking from “Wedded” to the damp umbrella.
Then she sat down on the sofa and cried impetuously.