“Glad to see you, my dear,” said the visitor, kissing her loudly.
Mrs. Cox gave her a subdued caress in return, not from any lack of feeling, but because she did everything in a quiet and spiritless fashion.
“I’ve got my Uncle Joseph from London staying with us,” continued the visitor, following her into the hall, “so I just got into the train and brought him down for a blow at the sea.”
A question on Mrs. Cox’s lips died away as a very small man who had been hidden by his niece came into sight.
“My Uncle Joseph,” said Mrs. Berry; “Mr. Joseph Piper,” she added.
Mr. Piper shook hands, and after a performance on the door-mat, protracted by reason of a festoon of hemp, followed his hostess into the faded drawing-room.
“And Mr. Cox?” inquired Mrs. Berry, in a cold voice.
Mrs. Cox shook her head. “He’s been away this last three days,” she said, flushing slightly.
“Looking for work?” suggested the visitor.
Mrs. Cox nodded, and, placing the tips of her fingers together, fidgeted gently.