Then the clock near her chimed silverly half-past eleven.

Beatrice drew a deep breath, rose slowly, and slowly went from the room.
A cab took her to Mrs.Baxendale's.

That lady was at home and alone, reading in fact; she closed her book as Beatrice entered, and a placid smile accompanied her observation of her niece's magnificence.
'I was coming to make inquiries,' she said.

'Mrs.Birks gave me a disturbing account of you yesterday.

Has your headache gone ?' 'Over, all over,' Beatrice replied quietly.