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e well-trained servant dropped on to the corner of the bed the things she held in her hands, and was gone. For some unaccountable reason Leonetta at the same time felt a tremor of apprehension pass slowly over her, and her hands grew icily cold. She could feel her mother's masterful will in the atmosphere of the room, and glancing tremulously askance at the widow's unfinished coiffure, every line of which seemed crisp with power, walked over to the hearth-rug. Mrs. Delarayne's redness had now vanished. She was if anything a little pale, and she turned to face her daughter. "I am not angry, Leo," she began with terrifying suavity, "but I felt I really could not explain all these things to you,"--she waved a hand over the mass of articles displayed on the dressing-table,-- "in front of Wilmott. You see, servants have to take these things for granted without explanation." Leonetta felt her ears beginning to burn furiously. Her mother could be terrible. "Yes, you see now," continued the widow, "how worrying and how difficult are the means which I have to use to make myself presentable. Age is a tiresome thing, is it not? It is so much more simple when one is young." The invincible "Warrior" smiled kindly, and saw that tears were gathering in her daughter's eyes. "Would you perhaps like me to go through these things with you, and explain them to you one by one?" she continued. "I have had to learn it all myself. I might save you a good many pitfalls in the remote future." Leonetta's throat was dry, and her lips were parched. "No, thank you," she replied hoarsely, and she made quickly towards the door. "You have not told me what you wanted to say," said her mother playfully. "I'll tell you later on," rejoined the girl in broken tones. "Then will you please ring for Wilmott?" said Mrs. Delarayne, turning calmly to face her mirror again. And after savagely pressing the bell, the flapper vanished. With her eyes blinded by stinging tears, and feeling very much more maddened by regret than by mortification, Leonetta fled to her room. She was not only staggered, she was also thoroughly ashamed. A boy suddenly butted by a lamb, which he had believed he might torment with impunity, could not have felt more astonished. A convert brought face to face with the livid wounds which, in her days of unbelief, she had inflicted upon a Christian martyr could not have felt more deeply dejected and penitent. Like
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