The four distracted visitors started up as if to escape by the window.
Mrs.Goodwyn-Sandys advanced.
She was white to the lips.

A close observer might have read the hunted look that for one brief moment swept over her face.

But when she spoke her words were cold and calm.
"You wish to see my husband, Mr.-- ?" She hesitated over the name.
"Not in the least," stammered Mr.Fogo.
There was an awful silence, during which he stared blankly around on the ladies.
"Then may I ask-- ?" "I desired to see Gerald--I mean, Mrs.Goodwyn-Sandys--but--" "I am Mrs.Goodwyn-Sandys.

Would you mind stating your business ?" Mr.Fogo started, dropped his hat, and leant back against the door again.
"_You!_" "Certainly." Her mouth worked slightly, but her eyes were steady.
"You are she that--was--once--Geraldine--O'Halloran ?" "Certainly." "Excuse me, madam," said Mr.Fogo, picking up his hat and addressing Mrs.Simpson politely, "but the mole on your chin annoys me." "Sir!" "Annoys me excessively.

May I ask, was it a birth-mark ?" "He is mad!" screamed the ladies, starting up and wringing their hands.