‘How ridiculous of aunt to carry on in that style!’ thought Bella to herself with a very red face.
Madame De Vigne turned to the young girl. ‘Is this your first visit to the Lakes, Miss Wynter?’
‘Yes; I have never been so far north before.’
‘I hope you will be favoured with as fine weather as we have had. They tell me that in these parts it sometimes rains for a week without ceasing.’
‘O dear, how very depressing. I shouldn’t like that at all.’
By this time Lady Renshaw was ready to resume the attack. ‘Pardon me, dear Madame De Vigne, but judging from the name, I presume your husband was not an Englishman?’
‘He was a Frenchman, Lady Renshaw.’
‘Some of the most charming men I have ever met were Frenchmen. Am I right in assuming that your loss is of an older date than mine?’
‘I lost my husband several years ago.’
‘Ah, then, Time has no doubt softened the blow to you. I am told that it generally does; but, for my part, I feel that I can never cease to mourn poor, dear Sir Timothy.—In all probability you have spent much of your life abroad?’