Marian struggled out of the deep chair and looked inquiringly at the stranger.
“No, you don’t know me,” said Mrs. Harding; “I’ll tell you who I am in a minute. I’m afraid I woke you out of a snooze? So sorry. It’s almost the only thing one can do on such a beastly afternoon—sleep and drink—and both are stupid by yourself. So I thought I’d trot downstairs and see if you were blue too.”
A vague recollection came to Marian of having passed Mrs. Harding on the stairs once or twice.
“Won’t you sit down?” she said. “I’ll ring and have the fire made up, and it must be tea time.”
She was anxious to learn the real meaning of this intrusion. Any diversion was welcome.
“You’re jolly snug here,” Mrs. Harding remarked, after a survey of the room while the maid had stirred up the fire and set the tea table ready. “Mine are rather frowsy, but then my old man’s a bit of a screw. You’ve had better luck than me. Hope it’ll last. That’s the worst of the jolly ones, they get tired so quickly, and if you hold the reins tight they simply kick up and bolt. I know.”
As it dawned upon her what was the character—or rather the want of it—of her visitor, Marian examined her face more critically. The woman was insolently handsome; masses of blue-black hair set off to perfection the almost dead-white of her face; the forehead was low and broad, the eyes dark and deep-set under heavy brows; the mouth large and sensuous, showing, when open, a perfect row of teeth; the chin alone was weak. She was expensively dressed, her tight-fitting tailor-made gown showing to advantage the bold outline of the figure.
“Now the girl’s gone we can chat cozily,” continued the visitor. “I never talk before my maid, because I don’t want her to talk over me and my doings with—say yours. I’d rather tell you myself what I want you to know. You’re not so careful. Your maid talks to mine, mine to me, so indirectly you’ve told me a good deal about yourself.”
“I’m much obliged to you,” Marian said quietly; “Anne shall leave to-morrow.”
“I thought it only pally to tell you, but I shouldn’t sack her—they’re all the same. I don’t let mine know more than I can help, though that’s more than safe if I annoyed her and she told the old ’un about—the others. You must have a pretty lonely time of it?”