"Mrs. Farrinder will thank
her for the company," he said, laughing, "but she won't thank her for
me."
Miss Birdseye manifested the greatest disposition to oblige him; she was
so glad he had been impressed. She was proceeding to lead him toward
Miss Tarrant when Olive Chancellor rose abruptly from her chair and laid
her hand, with an arresting movement, on the arm of her hostess. She
explained to her that she must go, that she was not very well, that her
carriage was there; also that she hoped Miss Birdseye, if it was not
asking too much, would accompany her to the door.
"Well, you are impressed too," said Miss Birdseye, looking at her
philosophically. "It seems as if no one had escaped."
Ransom was disappointed; he saw he was going to be taken away, and,
before he could suppress it, an exclamation burst from his lips--the
first exclamation he could think of that would perhaps check his
cousin's retreat: "Ah, Miss Olive, are you going to give up Mrs.
Farrinder?"
At this Miss Olive looked at him, showed him an extraordinary face, a
face he scarcely understood or even recognised. It was portentously
grave, the eyes were enlarged, there was a red spot in each of the
cheeks, and as directed to him, a quick, piercing question, a kind of
leaping challenge, in the whole expression.
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