That night, at parting, Desboro retained her offered hand a trifle longer than convention required, and looked at her more curiously than usual.
"Are you enjoying the party, Jacqueline?"
"Every minute of it. I have never been as happy."
"I suppose you realise that everybody is quite mad about you."
"Everybody is nice to me! People are so much kinder than I imagined."
"Are they? How do you get on with the gorgon?"
"Mrs. Hammerton? Do you know she is perfectly sweet? I never dreamed she could be so gentle and thoughtful and considerate. Why—and it seems almost ridiculous to say it—she seems to have the ideas of a mother about whatever concerns me. She actually fusses over me sometimes—and—it is—agreeable."
An inexplicable shyness suddenly overcame her, and she said good-night hastily, and mounted the stairs to her room.
Later, when she was prepared for bed, Mrs. Hammerton knocked and came in.