Miss Hersey rose from the sofa, and turned to her sister.
‘Come, Caroline, it is time we went home. Ma’am,’ she said, curtseying as deeply as her age would permit to the astonished Mrs. Somerville, ‘we have outstayed your good manners. I have the honour to wish you a good-evening.’
The Misses Robertson’s house stood barely a hundred yards from that of Captain Somerville, so Miss Hersey had decided that the coach which was usually hired when they went abroad was unnecessary; the maidservant who was to have presented herself to escort them home had not arrived when they put on their cloaks, so they went out alone into the moonlit street.
‘What was that she was saying, Hersey?’ inquired Miss Caroline, as she clung to her sister’s arm, rather bewildered by her situation, but accepting it simply.
‘Mrs. Somerville is no gentlewoman, sister. She was bold enough to bring up some ill talk to which I have never been willing to listen.’
‘That was very wrong—very wrong,’ said Miss Caroline.
Miss Hersey was murmuring to herself.
‘Discreditable?’ she was saying—‘discreditable? The impertinence!’