The woman looked at him angrily. Without her veil she displayed features
not in themselves unattractive, but a complexion somewhat impaired by the
use of cosmetics. The powder upon her cheeks was even then visible.

"What about me?" she asked, sharply.

Mannering looked her steadily in the face.

"I do not think," he said, "that such a life would suit you."

She was an angry woman, and she did not become angry gracefully.

"You mean that I'm not good enough for you and your friends in the
country. That's what you mean, isn't it? And I should like to know, if
I'm not, whose fault it is. Tell me that, will you?"

Mannering flinched, though almost imperceptibly.

"I meant simply what I said," he said. "Blakely would not suit you at
all. We have few friends there, and our simple life would not attract you
in the slightest. With Hester it is different. She would have her work,
in which she takes some interest, and I believe the change would be in
every way good for her."

"Well, she shan't come," the woman said, throwing herself into a chair,
and regarding him insolently. "I'm not going to live all alone--and be
talked about. Don't stare at me like that, Lawrence. I'm the child's
mother, am I not?"