He was just leaving Flora’s room; the Frau President at the same moment rustled through the music-room,—two elderly ladies had just arrived, and she was hastening to receive them. The study-door remained open; the unfinished article was surely in process of completion, for nothing stirred there, even after Fräulein von Giese seated herself at the piano again and ran her fingers over the keys.
Kitty glanced towards the doctor, who had entered the drawing-room. He went to the tea-table to talk with Henriette, but one of the newly-arrived ladies detained him in conversation. His air was courteous and composed, but Kitty had seen his eyes flash and his cheek crimson at Flora’s malicious words, and even now the colour in his face was deeper than usual,—he was by no means so calm and cheerful as he seemed. His beautiful adversary in the study was scarcely more composed; after about five minutes she pushed back her chair, with audible impatience, and came into the music-room.
"Well, Flora, have you finished already?" the maid of honour asked, as she went on striking thirds in quick succession on the keys.
"Nonsense! do you suppose an effective conclusion runs off your pen’s point as quickly as that? I am not in the humour, and I will not write unless I am. The calling of authoress is too sacred."
Fräulein von Giese’s eyes had a malicious twinkle in them,—their expression was never quite honest. "I am very curious to know what the critics will say of your great work upon ’Woman;’ you have talked so much of it, Flora. Has the publisher accepted it?"
Flora had noted the glance. "Ah, how you dear creatures would rejoice if it were a failure! But that pleasure must be denied you, as I am assured by—well, by my little finger." She laughed a low, self-satisfied laugh, shook the light curls from her brow, and prepared to enter the drawing-room with the regal air she knew so well how to adopt.
"My dear, you stand there with those notes in your hand as if you, too, wished to besiege our ears," she said to Kitty, in passing, with a meaning glance towards the diligent performer at the piano. "Do you sing?" Kitty shook her head. "It would be an inheritance from the Sommers; our family have no voices for singing."