She had none of the bustling self-confidence of the lady nurse, but was
very gentle and diffident. Surely Aylmer must be in love with her,
thought Edith.
Then Miss Clay said, in her low voice:
'You are Mrs Ottley, aren't you? I knew you at once.'
'Did you? How was that?'
A little colour came into the pale, dark face.
'Mr Ross has a little photograph of you,' she said, 'and once when he
was very ill he gave me your name and address and asked me to send it to
you if anything happened.'
As she said that her eyes filled with tears.
'Oh, but he'll be all right now, won't he?' asked Edith, with a feeling
of sympathy for Miss Clay, and a desire to cheer the girl.
'Yes, I think he'll be all right now,' she said. 'Do come up.'
CHAPTER X
It was a curious thing about Madame Frabelle that, though she was
perfectly at ease in any society, and really had seen a good deal of the
world, all her notions of life were taken from the stage. She looked
upon existence from the theatrical point of view. Everyone was to her a
hero or a heroine, a villain or a victim. To her a death was a
_denouement_; a marriage a happy ending. Had she known the exact
circumstances in which Edith went to see the wounded hero, Madame
Frabelle's dramatic remarks, the obvious observations which she would
have showered on her friend, would have been quite unendurable.
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