She looked magnificent, thought Margaret, still standing with her hand on the door—too magnificent.
Her father made a movement, it seemed of relief, as his daughter came in; but Lady Torridon, very upright in her chair on this side, went on immediately.
—“With your opinions, Mistress Atherton, I mean. I suppose all that you consider sacred is being insulted, in your eyes.”
The tall girl glanced at Margaret with the amusement still in her face, and then answered with a deliberate incisiveness that equalled Lady Torridon’s own.
“Not so difficult,” she said, “as for those who have no opinions.”
There was a momentary pause; and then she added, as she stood up and Sir James came forward.
“I am very sorry for them, Mistress Torridon.”
Before Lady Torridon could answer, Sir James had broken in.
“This is my daughter Margaret, Mistress Atherton.”
The two ladies saluted one another.