Part 24 (2/2)

Clodagh instantly turned the handle and opened the door.

In this room the blinds had not yet been drawn up, and only a yellowish light filtered in from outside; in the grate a fire burned unevenly; and close beside sat Mrs. a.s.shlin, a cup of tea in her hand, a black woollen shawl wrapped about her shoulders. As her niece entered, she glanced round irritably, drawing the wrap more closely round her.

”Shut the door, Clodagh!” she said. ”I hate these big, draughty houses.”

Clodagh obeyed in silence; then walking deliberately across the room, paused by her aunt's chair. Her face was still burning, her heart was beating unpleasantly fast.

”Aunt Fan,” she said, ”I want to ask you something. Why should Mr.

Milbanke bother about me--about us?”

Mrs. a.s.shlin, startled by the suddenness of the unlooked-for attack, turned in her seat and peered through the yellow twilight into her niece's excited face.

”What on earth is the matter with you, child?” she demanded.

”Nothing. But I want to know.”

Mrs. a.s.shlin made a gesture tantamount to shrugging her shoulders.

”It is quite natural that Mr. Milbanke should be interested in you. He was your father's oldest friend.”

”Yes, yes.” Clodagh bent forward uncontrollably. ”And, Aunt Fan, has father died poor? Has--has he left debts? That's what I want to know.”

Mrs. a.s.shlin moved nervously in her chair.

”My dear child----” she began weakly.

”Has he? Oh! Aunt Fan, has he left debts?”

Mrs. a.s.shlin was taken at a disadvantage.

”Well,” she stammered--”well----”

”He has left debts?”

”Well, yes. If you must know--he has.”

Clodagh caught her breath.

”Of course, as I often said,” Mrs. a.s.shlin continued, ”poor Denis was a terribly improvident man----”

But Clodagh checked her.

”Don't!” she said faintly. ”I couldn't bear it--just to-day. Are the debts big?”

”Immense.”

Mrs. a.s.shlin made the reply sharply. She was not an ill-natured woman, but her sense of dignity had been hurt.

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