Aynesworth certainly had not the air of a successful man. He was pale,
carelessly dressed, and apparently in ill health. Wingrave, after an
amount of hesitation, which was rare with him, turned his car towards
Battersea, and found himself, a few minutes later, mounting the five
flights of stone steps. Juliet herself opened the door to him. She
gave a little gasp when she saw who it was, and did not immediately
invite him to enter.
"I am sorry," Wingrave said coldly, "to inflict this visit upon you.
If you are alone, and afraid to ask me in, we can talk here."
Her cheeks became as flushed as a moment before they had been pale.
She looked at him reproachfully, and, standing on one side to let him
pass, closed the door behind him. Then she led the way into her
sitting room.
"I am glad that you have come to see me," she said. "Won't you sit
down?"
He ignored her invitation, and stood looking around him. There was a
noticeable change in the little room. There were no flowers, some of
the ornaments and the silver trifles from her table were missing. The
place seemed to have been swept bare of everything, except the
necessary furniture. Then he looked at her. She was perceptibly
thinner, and there were black rings under her eyes.
"Where is Mrs. Tresfarwin?" he asked.
"In Cornwall," she answered.
"Why?"
"I could not afford to keep her here any longer."
"What are you doing for a living--painting still?"
She shook her head a little piteously.
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