'Good gracious! I've spoilt all your beautiful roses!' said Mrs.
Hauksbee, lifting her head from the lump of crushed gum and
calico atrocities on Mrs. Delville's shoulder and hurrying to the
Doctor.
Mrs. Delville picked up her shawl, and slouched out of the room,
mopping her eyes with the glove that she had not put on.
'I always said she was more than a woman,' sobbed Mrs. Hauksbee
hysterically, 'and that proves it!'
Six weeks later Mrs. Bent and Dora had returned to the hotel. Mrs.
Hauksbee had come out of the Valley of Humiliation, had ceased
to reproach herself for her collapse in an hour of need, and was
even beginning to direct the affairs of the world as before.
'So nobody died, and everything went off as it should, and I kissed
The Dowd, Polly. I feel so old. Does it show in my face?'
'Kisses don't as a rule, do they? Of course you know what the result
of The Dowd's providential arrival has been.'
'They ought to build her a statue only no sculptor dare copy those
skirts.'
'Ah!' said Mrs. Mallowe quietly. 'She has found another reward.
The Dancing Master has been smirking through Simla, giving
every one to understand that she came because of her undying love
for him for him to save his child, and all Simla naturally believes
this.'
'But Mrs. Bent '
'Mrs. Bent believes it more than any one else.
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