It was Mrs. Devilin’s husband, Mr. D’Arcy, who had made all the arrangements. He was a middle-aged man, flashily over-dressed and with bold eyes which made Selina shrink away from him as soon as they met.
He looked her over slowly in a manner that she felt was impertinent, almost as if she was a horse for sale.
Then he said,
“I congratulate you, Celestine, I could not have done better myself.”
“I thought you would be pleased,” Mrs. Devilin replied. “You have told him we are arriving?”
“He is all impatience, but he will have to wait a little longer while you buy this child some clothes.”
“I am well aware of that,” Mrs. Devilin answered. “Tell the dressmaker to come here first thing in the morning and to bring with her everything she has. She knows the type of thing we want.”
“Yes, of
