“No, no, hide it from her.”
Mrs. Castillyon raised her lips to his, and with ardent passion, unexpected in that stout, complacent man, he kissed her. At that moment the dogcart came to the door, and Paul, in some surprise, asked his wife if she needed it.
“Oh, I forgot,” she cried. “I’m going up to town for the day. I ought to have told you. Miss Ley is much worse than she pretends, and I think I should go and see if I can do anything.”
The night’s dreary meditation had left her with a sensible resolve to consult Miss Ley, and when the maid came to draw the blinds she had ordered the trap to take her to the station for the train after that by which her guests were going. Now glibly she invented an excuse for her journey, and refused to hear Paul’s remonstrance, who feared she would make herself ill; nor would she allow him to accompany her.
“I feel I mustn’t prevent you when you’re bent on an errand of mercy,” he said at length. “But come back as early as you can.”
Miss Ley was finishing luncheon when Mrs. Castillyon was announced.
“I thought you were entertaining at Jeyston,” she exclaimed, much surprised to see her.
“I felt I must see you or I should go mad. Oh, why didn’t you come down? I wanted you so badly.”
Miss Ley, evidently in robust health, could not repeat her plea of indisposition, and therefore, instead of explaining, offered her guest food.
“I couldn’t eat anything,” cried Grace, with a shiver of distaste. “I’m simply distracted.”