The gloved hand resting on
his arm trembled, but when he looked down solicitously into Phil
Abingdon's face she smiled bravely, and momentarily her clasp
tightened as if to reassure him.
It seemed quite natural that she should derive comfort from the
presence of this comparative stranger; and neither of the two, as
they stood there looking at the tributes to the memory of the
late Sir Charles--which overflowed from a neighbouring room into
the lobby and were even piled upon the library table--were
conscious of any strangeness in the situation.
The first thing that had struck Harley on entering the house had
been an overpowering perfume of hyacinths. Now he saw whence it
arose; for, conspicuous amid the wreaths and crosses, was an
enormous device formed of hyacinths. Its proportions dwarfed
those of all the others.
Mrs. Howett, the housekeeper, a sad-eyed little figure, appeared
now from behind the bank of flowers. Her grief could not rob her
of that Old World manner which was hers, and she saluted the
visitors with a bow which promised to develop into a curtsey.
Noting the direction of Phil Abingdon's glance, which was set
upon a card attached to the wreath of hyacinths: "It was the
first to arrive, Miss Phil," she said. "Isn't it beautiful?"
"It's wonderful," said the girl, moving forward and drawing
Harley along with her. She glanced from the card up to his face,
which was set in a rather grim expression.
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