They were nearing a dip in the park, where there was a lonely looking
pool. The bracken was thick and high there, and the sun, which had just
broken through a cloud, had pierced the trees with a golden gleam.
A little withdrawn from this shaft of brightness stood two figures, a
dowdy little woman and a hunchbacked boy. The woman held some ferns
in her hand, and the boy was sitting down and resting his chin on his
hands, which were folded on the top of a stick.
"Stop here for a moment," Bettina said to the coachman. "I want to ask
that woman a question."
She had thought that she might discover if her sister was at the Court.
She realised that to know would be a point of advantage. She leaned
forward and spoke.
"I beg your pardon," she said, "I wonder if you can tell me----"
The woman came forward a little. She had a listless step and a faded,
listless face.
"What did you ask?" she said.
Betty leaned still further forward.
"Can you tell me----" she began and stopped. A sense of stricture in
the throat stopped her, as her eyes took in the washed-out colour of
the thin face, the washed-out colour of the thin hair--thin drab hair,
dragged in straight, hard unbecomingness from the forehead and cheeks.
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