“I ought to beg your pardon:  I am sorry.”

“Oh, pray don’t take the trouble.”

Mrs. Carteret got out of the chair with emphatic dignity, and held out some papers.

“You had better read these.  I will speak to you about them afterwards.”

She left the room absolutely satisfied with her own conduct.  But, coming to a pause in the drawing-room, she remembered that she had made one mistake.

“How stupid of me to have left Jane Dawning’s letter among those papers.”

But she did not go back to fetch the letter from her cousin Lady Dawning; and she did not own to herself that that apparent negligence was her real revenge.  Yet from that moment her feelings of self-satisfaction were uncomfortably disturbed.

Meanwhile, Molly was kneeling by the window in the study in floods of tears.  Everything in her mind had lost its balance; and baffled, disheartened, and ashamed, she wept tears that brought no softness.  She did not know it, but while to herself it seemed as if she were absorbed in weeping over her disillusionment, she was in fact deciding that, as her ideal had failed her, she would in future live only for herself, and get everything out of life that she could for her own satisfaction.

No one in the world cared for her, but she would not be defeated or crushed or forlorn.  With an effort she sprang to her feet with one agile movement, and pushed her heavy hair back from her forehead with her long, thin fingers.

The colour had gone from her clear, dark skin for the moment, and her breathing was fast and uneven, but her face still showed her to be very young and very healthy.  How differently the troubles of the mind are written in our faces when age has undermined the foundations and all momentary failure is a presage of a sure defeat.  Molly showed her determination to be brave and calm by immediately setting herself to read the papers left for her by Mrs. Carteret.

One was in French, a long letter from a lawyer in Florence communicating Madame Danterre’s wishes to Mrs. Carteret.  It stated that, owing to the painful circumstances of the case, his client chose to remain under her maiden name, and to reside in Florence.  Mrs. Carteret was at liberty to inform Miss Dexter of this, but she did not wish it known to anybody else.  Madame Danterre further asked Mrs. Carteret to make such arrangements as she thought fit for her daughter to see something of the world, either in London or by travelling, but she did not wish her to come to Florence.  Otherwise the world was before her, and L3000 a year was at her disposal.  Molly could hardly, it was implied, ask for more from a mother from whom she had been torn unjustly when she was an infant.  The rest of the letter was entirely about business, giving all details as to how the quarterly allowance would be paid.  In conclusion was an enigmatic sentence to the effect that, by a tardy act of repentance, Sir David Bright