Helen thought Miss Cavendish herself was looking very well
also, but Marion said no; that she was too sunburnt, she would not be
able to wear a dinner-dress for a month. There was a pause while
Marion's quill scratched violently across Carroll's note-paper. Helen
felt that in some way she was being treated as an intruder; or worse,
as a guest. She did not sit down, it seemed impossible to do so, but
she moved uncertainly about the room. She noted that there were many
changes, it seemed more bare and empty; her picture was still on the
writing-desk, but there were at least six new photographs of Marion.
Marion herself had brought them to the room that morning, and had
carefully arranged them in conspicuous places. But Helen could not
know that. She thought there was an unnecessary amount of writing
scribbled over the face of each.
Marion addressed her letter and wrote "Immediate" across the envelope,
and placed it before the clock on the mantel-shelf. "You will find
Philip looking very badly," she said, as she pulled on her gloves. "He
has been in town all summer, working very hard--he has had no holiday
at all. I don't think he's well. I have been a great deal worried
about him," she added. Her face was bent over the buttons of her
glove, and when she raised her blue eyes to Helen they were filled
with serious concern.
"Really," Helen stammered, "I--I didn't know--in his letters he seemed
very cheerful."
Marion shook her head and turned and stood looking thoughtfully out of
the window.
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