Penelope stopped abruptly. Mistaking the hard stare her mistress was
unconsciously giving her for one of displeasure, she hastened to excuse
herself. The fact was, Mrs. Hamlyn's imagination was beginning to run
riot.

"I couldn't help her speaking to me, ma'am, or her kissing the child;
she took me by surprise. That, was all she said--except that she asked
whether you were likely to be going into the country soon, away from the
house here. She didn't stay five minutes with us, but went back to stand
by the railings again."

"Did she speak as a lady or as a common person?" quite fiercely demanded
Mrs. Hamlyn. "Is she young?--good-looking?"

"Oh, I think she is a lady," replied the girl, her accent decisive. "And
she's young, as far as I could see, but she had a thick veil over her
face. Her hair is lovely, just like silken threads of pale gold,"
concluded Penelope as Mr. Hamlyn's step was heard.

He took his wife into the dining-room, apologising for being late. She,
giving full range to the fancies she had called up, heard him in silence
with a hardening, haughty face.

"Philip, you know who that woman is," she suddenly exclaimed during a
temporary absence of Japhet from the dining-room. "What is it that she
wants with you?"

"I!" he returned, in a surprise very well feigned if not real. "What
woman? Do you mean the one who was standing out there yesterday?"