Then, conscious that she was betraying emotions not meant for me, she turned to my chair. "You will understand that the information is something of a shock for a daughter. My mother's condition——"
"Mrs. Drainger," I ventured to interrupt, "wishes merely to make certain changes in an instrument already drawn up." I was conscious of a stir, whether of gratitude or of resentment, from the darkened corner.
Emily seemed momentarily bewildered.
"You frightened me," she said at length with a frankness palpably false.
"I quite understand," I retorted, the sham being, I thought, tolerably obvious. "And now if your mother and I——"
She took the hint.
"I will leave you," she said.
It was evident I had not won her gratitude.
As the door closed behind her I heard a low sound from Mrs. Drainger.
"I am afraid—afraid," she murmured weakly. I think forgetting my presence; and then, as if suddenly conscious of a slip: