But for the
disastrous father, she would have had every chance of marrying
"well." Mrs. Hannaford was not a worldly woman, and all her secret
inclinations were to romance, but it is hard for a mother to
dissociate the thought of marriage from that of wealth and
respectability. Mr. Kite, well-meaning as he might be, would never
do.
To-day there was truce. They talked much of Piers Otway, and in the
afternoon, as had been arranged by letter, both went to the railway
station, to meet the train by which it was hoped he would come--
Piers arrived.
"How much improved!" was the thought of both. He was larger,
manlier, and though still of pale complexion had no longer the
bloodless look of years ago. Walking, he bore himself well; he was
self-possessed in manner, courteous in not quite the English way;
brief, at first, in his sentences, but his face lit with cordiality.
On the way to the ladies' lodgings, he stole frequent glances at one
and the other; plainly he saw change in them, and perhaps not for
the better.
Mrs, Hannaford kept mentally comparing him with the scarecrow Kite.
A tremor of speculation took hold upon her; a flush was on her
cheeks, she talked nervously, laughed much.
Nothing was to be said about the flight from home; they were at
Epsom for a change of air. But Mrs. Hannaford could not keep silence
concerning her good fortune; she had revealed it in a few nervous
words, before they reached the house.
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