She paused with her hand on the knob.
"I knew he cared," she said in the same level voice, "but I didn't
know that he cared like that."
"You know now," said Mary. Her irritation was returning.
"Yes," said Desire. "Good-night."
She opened the door and went in.
CHAPTER XXXIV
It seems incredible and yet it is a fact that Bainbridge never knew
that young Mrs. Spence had run away. Full credit for this must be
given to Miss Caroline Campion, who never really believed it
herself--a mental limitation which lent the necessary air of
unemphasized truth to her statement that Desire had been summoned
suddenly to her father.
Miss Campion had, in her own mind, built up an imaginary Dr. Farr in
every way suited to be the father-in-law of a Spence. This creation
she passed on to Bainbridge as Desire's father. "Such a fine old
gentleman," she would say. "And so devoted to his only daughter.
Quite a recluse, though, my nephew tells me. And not at all strong."
This idea of delicacy, which Miss Campion had added to the picture
from a sense of the fitness of things, proved useful now. An only
daughter may be summoned to attend a delicate father at a moment's
notice, without unduly straining credulity.
One feels almost sorry for Bainbridge. It would have enjoyed the
truth so much!
"Is Desire going to have no breakfast at all?" asked Aunt Caroline,
from behind the coffee-urn on the morning following the garden-
party.
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