'She seems glad to be with you.'
'Very glad, I think.'
'Did the loss of her child affect her deeply?'
'I cannot say. She has never spoken of it.'
'Poor child!'
Stella made no reply to the exclamation.
The next day Adela went to call on Mrs. Rodman. It was a house in
Bayswater, not large, but richly furnished. Adela chose a morning
hour, hoping to find her sister-in-law alone, but in this she was
disappointed. Four visitors were in the drawing-room, three ladies
and a man of horsey appearance, who talked loudly as he leaned back
with his legs crossed, a walking-stick held over his knee, his hat
on the ground before him. The ladies were all apparently
middle-aged; one of them had a great quantity of astonishingly
yellow hair, and the others made up for deficiency in that respect
with toilets in very striking taste. The subject under discussion
was a recent murder. The gentleman had the happiness of being
personally acquainted with the murderer, at all events had
frequently met him at certain resorts of the male population. When
Mrs. Rodman had briefly welcomed Adela, the discussion continued.
Its tone was vulgar, but perhaps not more so than the average tone
among middle-class people who are on familiar terms with each other.
The gentleman, still leading the conversation, kept his eyes fixed
on Adela, greatly to her discomfort.
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