The yellow book: an illustrated quarterly (7.1895)

172 A Correspondence
fan lay upon her lap. She was apparently gazing straight before
her, though her masses of rippling hair partly concealed her face
from the Yeos.
“ Who is she ? ”
“ Why, you remember. That Miss Verrol who used to be
Cecily’s companion.”
“I thought she went to America, or New Zealand, or some-
where ? ”
“So she did, but Lady Fairfield had to come home when her
father died, you know, and she brought Miss Verrol with her.
I believe she’s living in town with them now as governess, or
secretary, or something ; but she’s always at the Margraves’, I
hear.” Mrs. Yeo gave vent to an untranslatable little exclamation
of disgust.
“ But why ? ” asked her husband. He alluded to the ejacu-
lation.
“ My dear Jim ! Can’t you see ? Look at them ! ”
The lights were lowered at the moment, and the curtain rose on
the last act.
When it was over, and Mrs. Yeo had collected her wraps, she
turned to glance once more at the Margraves’ box, but it was
empty.
Down in the brightly lighted vestibule, however, when at length
they reached it, she saw Cecily again.
She was standing a little out of the crush, beside one of the
great doors. Her husband was wrapping a white cloak round
Miss Verrol. She said something to him, with an upward glance
as he did so, and they both laughed. Cecily, who stood patiently
waiting at her side, shivered a little at the moment, yet Mrs. Yeo
fancied she did not feel the cold. As she passed her in the door-
way, their eyes met.

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