She was past anything except waiting for death, and it was impossible to speak to her or question her.

She was in the last stage of senile decay.

He masked his disappointment with an effort, conscious that the eyes of the younger woman were fixed on his face.
"If there is anything I can tell you--" she simpered, as she met his glance.
His face betrayed his anxiety.
"I had some reason to think that a young lady of my acquaintance, the daughter of an old friend of your mother's, might be staying with her." "There is no young lady here," said Miss Pursill with a hard look.

"I know nothing about it.

What is her name ?" "I have made a mistake, I am afraid." Charles was instantly on his guard.
"I am really very sorry--" She was not altogether proof against the winning smile with which he tendered an apology, but she looked at him strangely as she accompanied him downstairs to the front door.
Charles went back to London with a dark and angry face.