Tramore exactly eight
hours by the watch. Her father, who was as inconsistent and
disappointing as he was amiable, spoke to her of her mother only once
afterwards. This occasion had been the sequel of her first visit,
and he had made no use of it to ask what she thought of the
personality in Chester Square or how she liked it. He had only said
"Did she take you out?" and when Rose answered "Yes, she put me
straight into a carriage and drove me up and down Bond Street," had
rejoined sharply "See that that never occurs again." It never did,
but once was enough, every one they knew having happened to be in
Bond Street at that particular hour.
After this the periodical interview took place in private, in Mrs.
Tramore's beautiful little wasted drawing-room. Rose knew that, rare
as these occasions were, her mother would not have kept her "all to
herself" had there been anybody she could have shown her to. But in
the poor lady's social void there was no one; she had after all her
own correctness and she consistently preferred isolation to inferior
contacts. So her daughter was subjected only to the maternal; it was
not necessary to be definite in qualifying that.
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