“I am not even going to ask you what has happened.”
Miss Verinder thanked her again.
“I shall not ask a single question; and I want you to know that you will be welcomed in this house precisely as before—at all times and seasons, do you understand? If any of my friends object, then,” said Mrs. Bell firmly and grandly, “they can stay outside. Yes, they shall soon find I will not stand anything of that sort. You see, I am perfectly frank with you, Emmeline. I should be less than a friend if I attempted to conceal the truth from you. You have the whole world against you. So far as worldly opinion is concerned, your only chance is to live it down—just to live it down. And, as I say, by me you will be asked no questions of any kind. But, oh, my dear child, what on earth have you done with your hair?”
“I had it cut,” said Miss Verinder meekly.
“But why?”
“I mean to let it grow again,” said Miss Verinder, evading an answer.
“I hope so indeed. Now we will go into the other room and have lunch.” But before opening the door good Mrs. Bell put her hands on the visitor’s shoulders and administered a warmly affectionate kiss. Then she looked at Miss Verinder doubtfully, distressfully, and with a slight piteousness of appeal. “As I have promised you, I shall not ask questions—unless, my dearest Emmeline, you yourself would like to tell me every single little thing. If you feel it would be a relief to you for me to know exactly where you have been and exactly what you have been doing since you left England—but, no, I see you would rather not. Then come along.”
And with that tremendous adventure for ever locked in her heart, Miss Verinder sat down to luncheon.