"Indeed," she said.
"Yes, my dear Brenda, it is your besetting sin. You should pray against it," I said bluntly.
She stood up with an opposing air of surprise and alarm. But I was not to be deceived.
"Your assumed name, Eliza Smudge," I said, "gave you away at the start. And that hair—it is the tail of your nephew's rocking-horse, isn't it? And——"
But she had fled from the room and was scudding down the drive, heedless of my cries of "Brenda, you idiot, come back!"
As I watched from the front-door I saw that "Eliza Smudge" had met another woman in the lane and had engaged her in conversation.
Then they parted, and the other woman came in at the gate and up the drive.
"My dear Elfrida," said a well-known voice, "what have you been up to? You seem to have thoroughly upset that nice woman who was with the Copplestones so long. She told me you were a very strange lady; in fact she thought you must be suffering from a nervous breakdown."
I leaned for support against the door-post, feeling a little faint.