it was clearly impossible to suppress the bare facts or try to keep them from her hostess.
But she did rather wish it had been possible to do so.
“Yes,” said Lady Tamplin, coming suddenly out of her reverie, “I do think something might be done. A little account, you know, cleverly written up. An eyewitness, a feminine touch: 'How I chatted with the dead woman, little thinking -' that sort of thing, you know.”
“Rot!” said Lenox.
“You have no idea,” said Lady Tamplin in a soft, wistful voice, “what newspapers will pay for a little tit-bit! Written, of course, by someone of really unimpeachable social position. You would not like to do it yourself, I dare say, Katherine dear, but just give me the bare bones of it, and I will manage the whole thing for you. Mr de Haviland is a special friend of mine. We have a little understanding together. A most delightful man - not at all reporterish. How does the idea strike you, Katherine?”
“I would much prefer to do nothing of the kind,” said Katherine bluntly.
Lady Tamplin was rather disconcerted at this uncompromising refusal. She sighed and turned to the elucidation of further details.
“A very striking-looking woman, you said? I wonder now who she could have been. You didn't hear her name?”
“It was mentioned,” Katherine admitted, “but I can't remember it. You see, I was rather upset.”
“I should think so,” said Mr Evans, “it must have been a beastly shock.”
It is to be doubted whether, even if Katherine had remembered the name, she would have admitted the fact. Lady Tamplin's remorseless cross-examination was making her restive. Lenox, who was observant in her own way, noticed this, and offered to take Katherine upstairs to see her room. She left her there, remarking kindly before she went, “You mustn't mind Mother; she would make a few pennies' profit out of her dying grandmother if she could.”
Lenox went down again to find her mother and her stepfather discussing the newcomer.
“Presentable,” said Lady Tamplin, “quite presentable. Her clothes are all right. That grey thing is the same model that Gladys Cooper wore in Palm Trees in Egypt -”
“Have you noticed her eyes - what?” interposed Mr Evans.
“Never mind her eyes, Chubby,” said Lady Tamplin tartly, “we are discussing the things that really matter.”
“Oh, quite,” said Mr Evans, and retired into his shell.
“She doesn't seem to me very - malleable,” said Lady Tamplin, rather hesitating to choose the right word.
“She has all the instincts of a lady, as they say in books,” said Lenox, with a grin.
“Narrow-minded,” murmured Lady Tamplin. “Inevitable under the circumstances, I suppose.”
“I expect you will do your best to broaden her,” said Lenox, with a grin, “but you will have your work cut out. Just now, you noticed, she stuck down her forefeet and laid back her ears and refused to budge.”
“Anyway,” said Lady Tamplin hopefully, “she doesn't look to me at all mean. Some people, when they come into money, seem to attach undue importance to it.”
“Oh, you'll easily touch her for what you want,” said Lenox, “and, after all, that is all that matters, isn't it? That is what she is here for.”
“She is my own cousin,” said Lady Tamplin, with dignity.
“Cousin, eh?” said Mr Evans, waking up again. “I suppose I call her Katherine, don't I?”
“It is of no importance at all what you call her, Chubby,” said Lady Tamplin.
“Good,” said Mr Evans, “then I will. Do you suppose she plays tennis?” he added hopefully.
“Of course not,” said Lady Tamplin. “She has been a companion, I tell you. Companions don't play tennis - or golf. They might possibly play golf-croquet, but I have always understood that they wind wool and wash dogs most of the day.”
“O God!” said Mr Evans, “do they really?”
Lenox drifted upstairs again to Katherine's room. “Can I help you?” she asked rather
But she did rather wish it had been possible to do so.
“Yes,” said Lady Tamplin, coming suddenly out of her reverie, “I do think something might be done. A little account, you know, cleverly written up. An eyewitness, a feminine touch: 'How I chatted with the dead woman, little thinking -' that sort of thing, you know.”
“Rot!” said Lenox.
“You have no idea,” said Lady Tamplin in a soft, wistful voice, “what newspapers will pay for a little tit-bit! Written, of course, by someone of really unimpeachable social position. You would not like to do it yourself, I dare say, Katherine dear, but just give me the bare bones of it, and I will manage the whole thing for you. Mr de Haviland is a special friend of mine. We have a little understanding together. A most delightful man - not at all reporterish. How does the idea strike you, Katherine?”
“I would much prefer to do nothing of the kind,” said Katherine bluntly.
Lady Tamplin was rather disconcerted at this uncompromising refusal. She sighed and turned to the elucidation of further details.
“A very striking-looking woman, you said? I wonder now who she could have been. You didn't hear her name?”
“It was mentioned,” Katherine admitted, “but I can't remember it. You see, I was rather upset.”
“I should think so,” said Mr Evans, “it must have been a beastly shock.”
It is to be doubted whether, even if Katherine had remembered the name, she would have admitted the fact. Lady Tamplin's remorseless cross-examination was making her restive. Lenox, who was observant in her own way, noticed this, and offered to take Katherine upstairs to see her room. She left her there, remarking kindly before she went, “You mustn't mind Mother; she would make a few pennies' profit out of her dying grandmother if she could.”
Lenox went down again to find her mother and her stepfather discussing the newcomer.
“Presentable,” said Lady Tamplin, “quite presentable. Her clothes are all right. That grey thing is the same model that Gladys Cooper wore in Palm Trees in Egypt -”
“Have you noticed her eyes - what?” interposed Mr Evans.
“Never mind her eyes, Chubby,” said Lady Tamplin tartly, “we are discussing the things that really matter.”
“Oh, quite,” said Mr Evans, and retired into his shell.
“She doesn't seem to me very - malleable,” said Lady Tamplin, rather hesitating to choose the right word.
“She has all the instincts of a lady, as they say in books,” said Lenox, with a grin.
“Narrow-minded,” murmured Lady Tamplin. “Inevitable under the circumstances, I suppose.”
“I expect you will do your best to broaden her,” said Lenox, with a grin, “but you will have your work cut out. Just now, you noticed, she stuck down her forefeet and laid back her ears and refused to budge.”
“Anyway,” said Lady Tamplin hopefully, “she doesn't look to me at all mean. Some people, when they come into money, seem to attach undue importance to it.”
“Oh, you'll easily touch her for what you want,” said Lenox, “and, after all, that is all that matters, isn't it? That is what she is here for.”
“She is my own cousin,” said Lady Tamplin, with dignity.
“Cousin, eh?” said Mr Evans, waking up again. “I suppose I call her Katherine, don't I?”
“It is of no importance at all what you call her, Chubby,” said Lady Tamplin.
“Good,” said Mr Evans, “then I will. Do you suppose she plays tennis?” he added hopefully.
“Of course not,” said Lady Tamplin. “She has been a companion, I tell you. Companions don't play tennis - or golf. They might possibly play golf-croquet, but I have always understood that they wind wool and wash dogs most of the day.”
“O God!” said Mr Evans, “do they really?”
Lenox drifted upstairs again to Katherine's room. “Can I help you?” she asked rather
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