She kept Sir Richard entertained, while Kitty and Mary
conversed. They talked perfunctorily of ordinary topics--Venice, its
sights, its hotels, and the people staying in them--of Lady Tranmore and
various Ashe relations. Meanwhile the inmost thought of each was busy
with the other.
Kitty studied the lines of Mary's face and the fashion of her dress.
"She looks much older. And she's not enjoying her life a bit. That's my
fault. I spoiled all her chances with Geoffrey--and she knows it. She
hates me. Quite right, too."
"Oh, you mean that nonsensical thing last night?" Sir Richard was saying
to Margaret French. "Oh no, I didn't go. But Mary, of course, thought
she must go. Somebody invited her."
Kitty started.
"You were at the serenata?" she said to Mary.
"Yes, I went with a party from the hotel."
Kitty looked at her. A sudden flush had touched her pale cheeks, and she
could not conceal the trembling of her hands.
"That was marvellous, that light on the Salute, wasn't it?"
"Wonderful!--and on the water, too. I saw two or three people I
knew--just caught their faces for a second."
"Did you?" said Kitty.
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