"And I wanted to be elsewhere."
"And Marriner! The extraordinary noise she made running upstairs. She fell down twice. I heard her."
Mrs. Verulam leaned against Chloe and laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks, but this time with honest merriment. And Chloe echoed her with a delicious emulation. That gaiety did them good. A sense of humour is often salvation. And, indeed, they might have been laughing now had not their silver joviality been arrested by a flat-handed thump on the drawing-room door. They stopped and looked at each other. The flat-handed thump was repeated.
"Who on earth can this be?" whispered Mrs. Verulam apprehensively. "Come in!"
The door stole open and the faithful Marriner appeared, with twisted features, red eyes, and betouzled hair.
"Oh, ma'am!" she said. "Oh, my! Oh, dear, oh!"
She advanced into the room with her poor feet turned in, and wringing her horrified hands. Her black dress was torn at the knees, showing how she had fallen as she scrambled atticwards. Mrs. Verulam looked at the dress, remembered once more the noise of the tumbles, and laughed again till the tears ran out of her eyes.
"Poor Marriner!" she said. "Poor dear Marriner! Mr. Van Adam, Marriner!" (She mimicked the voice of announcement.) "Mr. Van Adam!"
The faithful Marriner's complexion turned a blackish grey.
"Oh, ma'am, forgive me—forgive me!" she cried.