Mrs. Hilary seized on the pretext this offered to get rid of Helen. She had been searching her excited mind for one wildly for some moments. “Then,” she said sharply, “you must see at once that your things are properly unpacked. Nothing spoils things like being crushed in trunks. And, as for chiffons! Go at once.”
“At once. I insist. You must not let me keep you. I shall be all right here, and when you have finished——” She was pushing Helen towards the door.
“Don’t be absurd, Angela,” the girl laughed—freeing herself, “my things can wait—I may not unpack them at all.”
“Are you sure—sure they can wait?” Mrs. Hilary said lamely.
“Of course I am sure, you absurdity. Besides, tea must be ready in the drawing-room. Angela, Dr. Latham is here.”
Angela dimpled and flushed. “Oh! is he—is he really?”
Angela sat down and opened her vanity bag. She propped the mirror up on the table, shook out her powder puff, tried it on one cheek, refilled and applied it liberally, thinking, thinking, as she beautified. How could she get rid of Helen? She wanted to see Horace Latham, of course, but she had something much more important to attend to first. Latham could wait—for once in a way. As she piled on powder, and flicked it off, another idea came to her. She seized it. “You go along now, dear, and I’ll follow you.”
Helen shook her head. “You will stop prinking and come with me, now.”
“Very well,” Mrs. Hilary said reluctantly, letting Helen take her arm and lead her to the door. At the door she cried, “Oh! Oh!” pressed her hand to her side and staggered back to a chair. She did it beautifully. It scarcely could have been done better.
“What is it, Angela?” Helen was thoroughly alarmed.
“You must think I am awfully silly.” She could only just speak.
“You poor thing—of course I don’t. Perhaps a glass of water——”
Mrs. Hilary shook her head violently—far too violently for so ill a woman.
“Please don’t,” the invalid said sharply, and then, “I’m not well enough to see a doctor,” she wailed.
“There’s nothing to worry about. It’s only the pain, the pain and the faintness, the horrid faintness. If only I had some smelling salts,” she moaned.
“There are some in my dressing-case,” Helen said quickly. “I’ll ring.”