The door-bell rang, and the sound of a
whispered conference between the visitor and the servant at the
threshold penetrated to the dining-room. Some one softly entered,
and then Mrs. Sewell called out, "Yes, yes! Come in! Come in, Miss
Vane!" She jumped from her chair and ran out into the hall, where
she was heard to kiss her visitor; she reappeared, still holding her
by the hand, and then Miss Vane shook hands with Sewell, saying in a
tone of cordial liking, "_How_ d'ye do?" and to each of the
young people as she shook hands in turn with them, "How d'ye
_do_, dear?" She was no longer so pretty as she must have once
been; but an air of distinction and a delicate charm of manner
remained to her from her fascinating youth.
Young Sewell pushed her a chair to the table, and she dropped softly
into it, after acknowledging Barker's presentation by Mrs. Sewell
with a kindly glance that probably divined him.
"You must dine with us," said Mrs. Sewell. "You can call it lunch."
"No, I can't, Mrs. Sewell," said Miss Vane. "I could once, and
should have said with great pleasure, when I went away, that I had
been lunching at the Sewells; but I can't now. I've reformed. What
have you got for dinner?"
"Roast beef," said Sewell.
"Nothing I dislike more," replied Miss Vane. "What else?" She put on
her glasses, and peered critically about the table.
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