Shopping had to be put off for three days; and
then Lady MacMillan was too near-sighted and too absent-minded to be of
much use. She was telegraphed for from her box of a castle, at the end
of the week, because her housekeeper was ailing--an old woman who was
almost as much friend as servant. Mary would have given anything to
return with her, even if to go back must mean retiring into the convent
forever; but the gate of the past had gently shut behind her. She could
not knock upon it for admittance, at least not until she had walked
farther along the path of the future.
When Lady MacMillan had gone, Mrs. Home-Davis and Elinor showed no
interest in the convent cousin. They went about their own concerns as if
she did not exist, leaving her to go about hers, if she chose. They were
both interested, they explained, in the Suffragist movement; also they
had charities to look after. There was no time to bother with Mary's
shopping, but of course she could have their maid, Jennings, to go out
with: in fact, she must not attempt to go alone. Consequently, Mary
bought only necessaries, in the big, confusing shops that glared white
in the foggy twilight, for Jennings as a companion was more depressing
than the cold. She was middle-aged, very pinched and respectable in
appearance, with a red nose, always damp at the end; and she disapproved
of lace and ribbons on underclothing. Mrs. Home-Davis and Miss Elinor
would never think of buying such things as Miss Grant admired.
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