CHAPTER XXI
For a while the sun of his happiness declined and the shadow of his danger rested upon Hugh. But presently it was noontide again, and, after the manner of men, he forgot the danger. The months passed and grew into years, and a wonderful joy came into Irene’s sky and lit, with a new worship, her love for Hugh. But Minna lived in the gloom of a disastrous life.
Three years had passed.
Her high-heeled shoes came down with a click upon the tiled floor of the loggia at every swing forward of her American rocking-chair. As Mrs. Delamere’s nerves had been tried of late, she rose, after some wincing, and prepared to enter the drawing-room. Three years’ chaperonage of Minna had brought their wear and tear upon the system; and Minna’s character had decidedly not softened. They had, however, remained excellent friends, and had formed a cold, cynical attachment to each other. The pulling up of a carriage in the court-yard below drew Mrs. Delamere to the balustrade.
“If you are really going to Monte Carlo, you had better make haste, or you will miss the 10.55. There is the carriage.”
Minna stopped her rocking, and lay back in the chair in a lazy attitude.
“I wish I hadn’t told Boissy I would come.”
“So do I. He’s a bit of a cad. It won’t do you any good to placard yourself about with him.”
“Because he tells improper stories?”