"
The victory was won. Mrs. Phillips had turned away. The shopman was
altering the order. Joan moved towards the door, and accidentally caught
sight of Mrs. Phillips's face. The flabby mouth was trembling. A tear
was running down the painted cheek.
Joan slipped her hand through the other's arm.
"I'm not so sure you're not right after all," she said, fixing a critical
eye upon the rival suites. "It is a bit mousey, that other."
The order was once more corrected. Joan had the consolation of
witnessing the childish delight that came again into the foolish face;
but felt angry with herself at her own weakness.
It was the woman's feebleness that irritated her. If only she had shown
a spark of fight, Joan could have been firm. Poor feckless creature,
what could have ever been her attraction for Phillips!
She followed, inwardly fuming, while Mrs. Phillips continued to pile
monstrosity upon monstrosity. What would Phillips think? And what would
Hilda's eyes say when they looked upon that _recherche_ drawing-room
suite? Hilda, who would have had no sentimental compunctions! The woman
would be sure to tell them both that she, Joan, had accompanied her and
helped in the choosing.
Pages:
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207