"I happened to know," he continued, "that you were in London, so I ventured to bring her at once to you. You are the mistress of Thorpe, and in our recent conversation I remember you admitted a certain amount of responsibility as regards your people there. If she passes the night under your roof, no one can have a word to say. It will save her at once from her parent's anger and the undesirable comments of her neighbours."
Wilhelmina glanced once more towards the clock.
"It seems to me," she remarked, "that a considerable portion of the night has already passed."
Both Macheson and the girl were silent. Wilhelmina for the first time addressed the latter.
"Where have you been spending the evening?" she asked.
"We had dinner and went to a place of entertainment," she faltered. "Then we had supper, and I found out how late it was."
The girl's face was scarlet. She did not answer. Wilhelmina waited for a moment and then shrugged her shoulders.
"You are to be congratulated," she said, with cold irony, "upon your fortunate meeting with Mr. Macheson."
She had touched the bell, and a footman entered.
"Reynolds," she said, "show this young person into the housekeeper's room, and ask Mrs. Brown to take charge of her for the night."
The girl moved forward impulsively, but something in Wilhelmina's expression checked her little speech of gratitude. She followed the man from the room without a word. Wilhelmina also turned towards the door.
"You will excuse me," she said coldly to Macheson. "I am already later than I intended to be."
"I can only apologize for disturbing you at such an hour," he answered, taking up his hat. "I could think of nothing else."
"The girl's parents," she said, "are respectable people, and I am sheltering her for their sake. But I am bound to say that I consider her story most unsatisfactory."
They were standing in the hall--she had paused on her way out to conclude her sentence. Her maid, holding out a wonderful rose-lined opera cloak, was standing a few yards away; a man-servant was waiting at the door with the handle in his hand. She raised her eyes to his, and Macheson felt the challenge which flashed out from them. She imagined, then, that he had been the girl's companion; the cold disdain of her manner was in itself an accusation.