'
Adela heard the invitation with distress. Fortunately it was given
in a way which all but presupposed refusal.
'I am afraid I cannot,' she answered. 'My health is not good; I
never see people. Thank you very much.'
'Oh, of course I wouldn't put you out,' said Alice, inspecting her
relative's face curiously. And she added, rather more in her old
voice, 'I'm sorry you lost your baby. I believe you're fond of
children? I don't care anything about them myself; I hope I shan't
have any.'
Adela could not make any reply; she shook hands with Alice and took
her leave, only breathing freely when once more in the street. All
the way back to St. John's Wood she was afflicted by the thought
that it would be impossible to advise a meeting between Stella and
Mrs. Rodman. Yet she had promised Richard to do so. Once more she
found herself sundered from him in sympathies. Affection between
Alice and her there could be none, yet Alice was the one person in
the world whom Richard held greatly dear.
The enchanted life of those first weeks at Exmouth was now resumed.
The golden mornings passed with poetry and music; in the afternoon
visits were paid to museums and galleries, or to the studios of
artists who were Mrs. Westlake's friends, and who, as Adela was
pleased to see, always received Stella with reverential homage.
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