Something in her responded
swiftly, even passionately, to the hunger of those eyes. The moment's
shock passed from her like a cloud.
"My sister Mrs. Everard," said Scott's voice at her shoulder. "Isabel,
this is Miss Bathurst of whom I was telling you."
"You lent me your jewels," said Dinah, looking into the wasted face with
a sympathy at her heart that was almost too poignant to be borne. "Thank
you so very, very much for them! It was so very kind of you to lend them
to a total stranger like me."
The strange eyes were gazing at her with a curious, growing interest. A
faint, faint smile was in their depths. "Are we strangers, child?" the
low voice asked. "I feel as if we had met before. Why do you look at me
so kindly? Most people only stare."
Dinah was suddenly conscious of a hot sensation at the throat that made
her want to cry. "It is you who have been kind," she said, and her little
hand closed with confidence upon the limp, cold fingers. "I am wearing
your things still, and I have had such a lovely time. Thank you again for
letting me have them. I am going to return them now."
"You need not do that." Isabel spoke with her eyes still fixed upon the
girlish face. "Keep them if you like them! I shall never wear them again.
They tell me--they tell me--I am a widow."
"Miss Isabel darlint!" Biddy spoke sibilantly from the background. "Don't
be talking to the young lady of such things! Won't ye sit down then,
miss? And maybe I can get ye a cup o' tay.
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