A sudden adjusting light burst upon many familiar things at that moment. He found the visitor in the drawing-room, standing up veiled, the carriage which had brought her being in waiting at the door. By the dim light he could see nothing of her features in such circumstances.
‘Mr. Pierston?’
‘I am Mr. Pierston.’
‘You represent the late Mrs. Pierston?’
‘I do—though I am not one of the family.’
‘I know it.... I am Marcia—after forty years.’
‘I was divining as much, Marcia. May the lines have fallen to you in pleasant places since we last met! But, of all moments of my life, why do you choose to hunt me up now?’
‘Why—I am the step-mother and only relation of the young man your bride eloped with this morning.’
‘I was just guessing that, too, as I came downstairs. But—’
‘And I am naturally making inquiries.’