She did not look across the table,
but, to her astonishment, she heard the girl's voice with trouble,
enmity and anger concentrated in its control, saying quickly, 'So
that's the nice thing that's happened!'
'Very nice,' Sophia murmured. 'Poor Francis! He must have been glad to
see you.'
Rose's eyes glanced over Henrietta's face with a look too proud to be
called disdain: she was doubly shocked, first by the girl's effrontery
and then by the truth in her words. She had indeed been feeling
indefinitely happy and ignoring the cause. She was, even now, not sure
of the cause. She did not know whether it was the change in Francis or
the jingling of the chains still sounding in her ears, but there had
been a lightness in her heart which had nothing to do with the sense
of that approaching freedom on which she had been counting.
She turned to Sophia as though Henrietta had not spoken. 'Yes, I think
he was glad to see a friend. He has been to Canada to see Christabel's
family. No, he didn't say how he was, but I thought he looked rather
old.'
'Ah, poor boy,' Sophia said. 'I think, Rose dear, it would be kind to
ask him here.'
'Oh, he knows he can come when he likes,' Rose said.
On the other side of the table Henrietta was shaking delicately. She
could only have got relief by inarticulate noises and insanely violent
movements. She hated Francis Sales, she hated Rose and Sophia and
Charles Batty. She would not go to the concert--yes, she would go and
make Charles miserable.
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