“No, it is nothing like that,” began Marina, sinking down upon the sofa next to her and taking off her gloves. “I am being sent away.”
Henrietta regarded her friend in disbelief.
“What do you mean – sent away? I am afraid I do not understand. You cannot have done something wrong. Why, you are still in mourning.”
Marina looked down at her black dress of rough silk with its simple crepe frill at the cuff.
“No, it is nothing I have done. Papa has decided that he no longer wishes me to live with him and is sending me away to live with some friends of his in France.”
Henrietta clasped her friend’s hand and sat mute with misery.
“I think it is because I remind him so much of Mama,” continued Marina, “he cannot bear to have me living under the same roof as him.”
The emotion became too much
