And now old Jeffcott had cast a
shade even upon that. But then he did not really know Guy. No one
knew him as she knew him. She quickened her steps a little.
Possibly there might be a letter from him that evening.
There was. She spied it lying on the hall table as she entered.
Eagerly she went forward and picked it up. But as she did so there
came the sound of a car in the drive before the open front door,
and quickly she thrust it away in the folds of her dress. The
travellers had returned.
With a resolutely smiling face she went to meet them.
CHAPTER II
THE NEW MISTRESS
"Here is our dear Sylvia!" said Mrs. Ingleton.
She embraced the girl with much _empressement_, and then, before
Sylvia could reach her father, turned and embraced him herself.
"So very nice to be home, dear!" she said effusively. "We shall be
very happy here."
Gilbert Ingleton bestowed a somewhat embarrassed salute upon her,
one eye on his daughter. She greeted him sedately the next moment,
and though her face was smiling, her welcome seemed to be frozen at
its source; it held no warmth.
Mrs. Ingleton, tall, handsome, assertive, cast an appraising eye
around the oak-panelled hall. "Dear me! What severe splendour!"
she commented. "I have a great love for cosiness myself. We must
scatter some of those sweet little Italian ornaments about,
Gilbert.
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