The gentle, scrupulous, composed woman of every day had
vanished in something far more vigorously drawn; he felt himself
confronted by a personality as strong as, and probably more stubborn
than his own.
Lady Lucy seated herself. She quietly arranged the folds of her black
satin dress; she drew forward a stool, and rested her feet upon it. Sir
James watched her, uncertain how to begin. But she saved him
the decision.
"I have had a painful interview with my son" she said, quietly. "It
could not be otherwise, and I can only hope that in a little while he
will do me justice. Oliver will join us presently. And now--first, Sir
James, let me ask you--you really believe that Miss Mallory has been
till now in ignorance of her mother's history?"
Sir James started.
"Good Heavens, Lady Lucy! Can you--do you--suppose anything else?"
Lady Lucy paused before replying.
"I cannot suppose it--since both you and my son--and Mr. Ferrier--have
so high an opinion of her. But it is a strange and mysterious thing that
she should have remained in this complete ignorance all these years--and
a cruel thing, of course--to everybody concerned.
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