“Tell Martha to pack Miss Ley’s boxes at once, and call a four-wheeler,” she cried, in tones of thunder.
“Very well, Madam,” answered the butler, used to his mistress’ vagaries.
Then Miss Dwarris turned to her guest, who observed her with irritating good-humour.
“I hope you realize, Polly, that I fully mean what I say.”
“All is over between us,” answered Miss Ley mockingly, “and shall I return your letters and your photographs?”
Miss Dwarris sat for a while in silent anger, watching her cousin, who took up the Morning Post and with great calmness read the fashionable intelligence. Presently the butler announced that the four-wheeler was at the door.
“Well, Polly, so you’re really going?”
“I can hardly stay when you’ve had my boxes packed and sent for a cab,” replied Miss Ley mildly.
“It’s your own doing; I don’t wish you to go. If you’ll confess that you were headstrong and obstinate, and if you’ll take an umbrella, I am willing to let bygones be bygones.”
“Look at the sun,” answered Miss Ley.