Sir Edmund was able from this to conclude rightly that Mrs. Delaport Green was not aware of the existence of Madame Danterre, and would have no suspicions as to the sources of the fortune that supplied Molly’s large allowance.  It had, in fact, been thought wiser not to offer explanations which had not been called for.

“It will be very tiresome for you,” said Grosse.  “You will have to amuse her, you know, and is she worth while?”

“Quite; she will pay—­let me see—­she will pay for the new motor, and she will go to my dressmaker and keep her in a good temper.  But, of course, I shall have to make sacrifices and find her partners.  I must try and not let my poor people miss me.  They would miss me dreadfully, though I know you don’t think so.”

“And you don’t even know what she is like?”

“Oh, yes, I do; I have seen her once, and she is oh! so interesting:  olive skin, black, or almost black, hair, almond-shaped grey eyes—­no, I don’t mean almond-shaped, but really very curiously-shaped eyes, full of—­let me see if I can tell you what they are full of—­something that, in fact, makes you shiver and feel quite excited.  But, do you know, she hardly speaks, and then in such a low voice.  I’ll tell you now, I’ll tell you exactly what she reminds me of:  do you know a picture in a very big gallery in Florence of a woman who committed some crime?  It’s by one of the pupils of one of the great masters; just try and think if you don’t know what I mean.  Oh, must you go?  But won’t you come again, and see how we get on, and how I bear up?”

When Molly did arrive, her dainty little hostess petted and patted her and called her “Molly” because she “could not help it.”

“Oh, we will do the most delightful things, now that you have come; we must, of course, do balls and plays, and then we will have quite a quiet day in the country in the new motor, and we will take some very nice men with us.  And then you won’t mind sometimes coming to see people who are ill or poor or old?”

The little voice rose higher and higher in a sort of wail.

“It does cheer them up so to look in and out with a few flowers, and it need not take long.”

“I don’t mind people when they are really ill,” said Molly, in her low voice, “but I like them best unconscious.”

Mrs. Delaport Green stared for a moment; then she jumped up and ran forward with extended hands to greet a lady in a plain coat and skirt and an uncompromising hat.

“Oh, how kind of you to come, and how are you getting on?  Molly dear, this is the lady who lives in horrid Hoxton taking care of my poor people I told you about.  Do tell her what you really mean about liking people best when they are unconscious, and you will both forgive me if I write one tiny little note meanwhile?”

Molly gave some tea to the newcomer as if she had lived in the house for years, and drew her into a talk which soon allayed her rising fears as to whether her own time would have to be devoted to horrid Hoxton.  By calm and tranquil questions she elicited the fact that Mrs. Delaport Green had visited the settlement once during the winter.