At the last word Mrs. Forbes pinched her lips together, and appeared older than her years and sourer than her normal temper.
“At this moment, Mrs. Forbes,” continued Mrs. Greyne, with rising fervour, “he looks for it to me from Africa. From that dark continent he stretches forth his hands to me in humble supplication.”
“Mr. Greyne has not been taken with another of his bilious attacks, I hope, madam?” said Mrs. Forbes.
Mrs. Greyne smiled. The ignorance of the humbly born entertained her. It was so simple, so transparent.
“You fail to understand me,” she answered. “But never mind; others have done the same.”
She thought of her reviewers. Mrs. Forbes smiled. She also could be entertained.
“Madam?” she inquired once more after a pause.
“I shall leave for Africa to-morrow morning,” said Mrs. Greyne. “You will accompany me.”
There was a dead silence.
“You will accompany me. Do you understand? Obtain assistance from the housemaids in the packing. Select my quietest gowns, my least conspicuous bonnets. I have my reasons for wishing, while journeying to Africa and remaining there, to pass, if possible, unnoticed.”