Then
she took the keys and the money, consulted her watch, and in a few
minutes was walking from the house to a neighbouring cab-stand.
She drove to Wilton Square. Inspecting the front of the house before
knocking at the door, she saw a light in the kitchen and a dimmer
gleam at an upper window. It was Mrs. Clay who opened to her.
'Is Emma in?' Alice inquired as she shook hands rather coldly.
'She's sitting with Jane. I'll tell her. There's no fire except in
the kitchen,' Kate added, in a tone which implied that doubtless her
visitor was above taking a seat downstairs.
'I'll go down,' Alice replied, with just a touch of condescension.
'I want to speak a word or two with Emma, that's all.'
Kate left her to descend the stairs, and went to inform her sister.
Emma was not long in appearing; the hue of her face was troubled,
for she had deceived herself with the belief that it was Richard who
knocked at the door. What more natural than for him to have come on
Christmas Eve? She approached Alice with a wistful look, not
venturing to utter any question, only hoping that some good news
might have been brought her. Long watching in the sick room had
given her own complexion the tint of ill-health; her eyelids were
swollen and heavy; the brown hair upon her temples seemed to droop
in languor.
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