Katherine smiled a little to herself; it had apparently been worth while to conform to Miss Viner’s prejudices. The old lady went on with increasing gusto.
“It has been a great relief to me that you have not had your head turned. Only the other day I was looking for my cuttings. I have several about Lady Tamplin and her War Hospital and whatnot, but I cannot lay my hand upon them. I wish you would look, my dear; your eyesight is better than mine. They are all in a box in the bureau drawer.”
Katherine glanced down at the letter in her hand and was about to speak, but checked herself, and going over to the bureau found the box of cuttings and began to look over them. Since her return to St. Mary Mead, her heart had gone out to Miss Viner in admiration of the old woman’s stoicism and pluck. She felt that there was little she could do for her old friend, but she knew from experience how much those seemingly small trifles meant to old people.
“Here is one,” she said presently. “ ‘Viscountess Tamplin, who is running her villa at Nice as an Officers’ Hospital, has just been the victim of a sensational robbery, her jewels having been stolen. Amongst them were some very famous emeralds, heirlooms of the Tamplin family.’ ”
“Probably paste,” said Miss Viner; “a lot of these Society women’s jewels are.”
“Here is another,” said Katherine. “A picture of her. ‘A charming camera study of Viscountess Tamplin with her little daughter Lenox.’ ”
“Let me look,” said Miss Viner. “You can’t see much of the child’s face, can you? But I dare say that is just as well. Things go by contraries in this world and beautiful mothers have hideous children. I dare say the photographer realised that to take the back of the child’s head was the best thing he could do for her.”