This little discovery affected Damaris to a singular extent.  She had small enough wish for Henrietta Frayling’s society at this juncture; still less for that of her attendant singer-reciter-parson.  Yet their names, and the train of recollections evoked by these, made for the normal, the average, and, in so far, had on her a wholesome effect.  For Henrietta, of once adored and now somewhat tarnished memory—­soulless, finished, and exquisitely artificial to her finger-tips, beguiling others yet never herself beguiled beyond the limits of a flawless respectability—­was wonderfully at odds with high tragedies of dissolution.  How had the house received such a guest?  How put up with her intrusion?  But wasn’t the house, perhaps, itself at a disadvantage, its sting drawn in presence of such invincible materialism?  For how impress a creature at once so light and so pachydermatous?  The position lent itself to rather mordant comedy.

In this sense, though not precisely in these phrases, did Damaris apprehend matters as, still holding Henrietta Frayling’s visiting card in her hand, she crossed the hall and went into the drawing-room.

There, from upon the sofa behind the tea-table, through the warm soft radiance of shaded lamps and glowing fire, Felicia Verity uplifted her voice in somewhat agitated greeting.  She made no preliminary affectionate enquiries—­such as might have been expected—­regarding her niece’s outing or general well-being, but darted, not to say exploded, into the declaration: 

“Darling, I am so exceedingly glad you weren’t at home!—­Mrs. Frayling’s card?”

This, as the girl sat down on the sofa beside her.

“Then you know who’s been here.  I didn’t intend to see anyone—­unless poor little Theresa—­But no, truly no one.  Both Hordle and Mary were off duty—­I ought not to have let them be away at the same time, perhaps, but I did feel they both needed a holiday, don’t you know.—­And either they had forgotten to give Laura my orders, or she lost her head, or was talked over.  I daresay Mrs. Frayling insisted.”

“Henrietta is not easily turned from her purpose,” Damaris said.

“Exactly.—­A very few minutes’ conversation with her convinced me of that.  And so I felt it would be unfair to blame Laura too severely.  I should suppose Mrs. Frayling excessively clever in getting her own way.  Poor Laura—­even if she did know my orders, she hadn’t a chance.”

“Not a chance,” Damaris repeated.

Once convalescence initiated, youth speedily regains its elasticity; and Aunt Felicia with her feathers ruffled, Aunt Felicia upon the warpath thus, presented a novel spectacle meriting observation.  Evidently she and Henrietta had badly clashed!—­A nice little demon of diversion stirred within Damaris.  For the first time for many days she felt amused.

“Excessively clever,” Miss Felicia continued.

—­Without doubt the dear thing was finely worked up!—­