"They've got to go somewhere!" Mrs.Hooper repeated that Nora would manage it, and languidly waved her niece towards the drawing-room.

The girl hesitated, laughed, and finally yielded, seeing that Nora was really in charge.

Dr.Hooper led her in, placed an armchair for her beside the tea-table, and stood closely observing her.
"You're like your mother," he said, at last, in a low voice; "at least in some points." The girl turned away abruptly, as though what he said jarred, and addressed herself to Alice.
"Poor Annette was very sick.

It was a vile crossing." "Oh, the servants will look after her," said Alice indifferently.
"Everybody has to look after Annette!--or she'll know the reason why," laughed Lady Constance, removing her black gloves from a very small and slender hand.

She was dressed in deep mourning with crape still upon her hat and dress, though it was more than a year since her mother's death.
Such mourning was not customary in Oxford, and Alice Hooper thought it affected.
Mrs.Hooper then made the tea.