"
The flush had quite passed from her face. She even looked slightly pale.
Lady Caryl laid down her cup and rose. "That would be so, no doubt," she
said. "I think I shall try to persuade him to come to us at the end of
the year. And your sister is to be married in January? It will be quite
an event for you all. I am sure you are very busy--even more so than
usual, my dear Mary."
She made her stately adieu and swept away.
After her departure Molly bore the teacups to the kitchen and washed them
with less than her usual cheery rapidity. And when the day's work was
done she sat for a long while in her icy bedroom, with the moonlight
flooding all about her, thinking, thinking deeply.
* * * * *
It was the eve of Phyllis's wedding-day, and Molly was hard at work in
the kitchen. The children were all at home, but she had resolutely
turned every one out of this, her own particular domain, that she might
complete her gigantic task of preparation undisturbed. The whole
household were in a state of seething excitement. There were guests in
the house as well, and every room but the kitchen seemed crowded to its
utmost capacity. Molly was busier than she had ever been in her life, and
the whirl of work had nearly swept away even her serenity. She was very
tired, too, though she was scarcely conscious of it. Her hands went from
one task to another with almost mechanical skill.
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