"that they seem to be able to get along very well without you. I suppose
I am too old to understand this modern way of living. How well I remember
one night--it was in 1886--I missed the train to Silverdale, and my
telegram miscarried. Poor Mr. Holt was nearly out of his head."

She fumbled for her glasses and dropped them. Honora picked them up, and
it was then she perceived that the tears were raining down the good
lady's cheeks. At the same moment they sprang into Honora's eyes, and
blinded her. Mrs. Holt looked at her long and earnestly.

"Go down, my dear," she said gently, "you must not neglect your friends.
They will wonder where you are. And at what time do you breakfast?"

"At--at any time you like."

"I shall be down at eight," said Mrs. Holt, and she kissed her.

Honora, closing the door, stood motionless in the hall, and presently the
footsteps and the laughter and the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel
died away.




CHAPTER XI

CONTAINING SOME REVELATIONS

Honora, as she descended, caught a glimpse of the parlour maid picking up
the scattered cards on the drawing-room floor. There were voices on the