She dressed with even more than her habitual care, reddened her lips attentively, brushed the faintest bloom of pink over her drawn cheeks, and went down--to meet Mrs. Match coming up with a tray.
"Oh, Madam, I thought you were too tired.... I was bringing it up to you myself--just a little morsel of chicken."
Susy, glancing past her, saw, through the open door, that the lamps were not lit in the drawing-room.
"Oh, no, I'm not tired, thank you. I thought Mrs. Melrose expected friends at dinner!"
"Friends at dinner-to-night?" Mrs. Match heaved a despairing sigh. Sometimes, the sigh seemed to say, her mistress put too great a strain upon her. "Why, Mrs. Melrose and Mr. Fulmer were engaged to dine in Paris. They left an hour ago. Mrs. Melrose told me she'd told you," the house-keeper wailed.
Susy kept her little fixed smile. "I must have misunderstood. In that case... well, yes, if it's no trouble, I believe I will have my tray upstairs."
Slowly she turned, and followed the housekeeper up into the dread solitude she had just left.