“A dreadful woman,” observed Mrs. Baxter half an hour later, as the two strolled back up the garden path, after seeing Mrs. Stapleton wave a delicately gloved hand encouragingly to them over the back of the throbbing motor.
“I suppose she thinks she believes it all,” said Maggie.
“My dear, that woman would believe anything. I hope poor Laurie was not too much distressed.”
“Oh! I think Laurie took it all right.”
“It was most unfortunate, all that about death and the rest. … Why, here comes Laurie; I thought he would be gone out by now.”
The boy strolled towards them round the corner of the house, tossing away the fragment of his cigarette. He was still in his dark suit, bareheaded, with no signs of riding about him.
“So you’ve not gone out yet, dear boy?” remarked his mother.
“Not yet,” he said, and hesitated as they went on.
Mrs. Baxter noticed it.
“I’ll go and get ready,” she said. “The carriage will be round at three, Maggie.”
When she was gone the two moved out together on to the lawn.
“What did you think of that woman?” demanded Laurie with a detached air.