” He threw open the door of the sitting-room and switched on the electric light. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair. One was in the Indian Civil Service and one in the rapidly developing motor business. He could scarcely blame her. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. “You’re so cute. She pulled the door so that it was not quite to, and held out her hand, palm up. "Where?" "That can wait," she answered. ‘Oh, you may come to me on any mission you like,’ uttered Mrs Sindlesham roguishly. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl.
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