The shadow deepened in Harriet's eyes. But an instant later she had skillfully covered an air of growing constraint by a conventional question.
"How's Joe, Eliza?"
"Pretty much as usual. He'll be off duty soon."
Joe Kelly was Eliza's husband, and a member of the Metropolitan police force. In the eyes of her family, Eliza Sanderson had married beneath her. But Joe, if a rough diamond, was a good fellow, and Eliza could afford not to be over-sensitive on the score of public opinion. Joe had no superficial graces, it was as much as he could do to write a line in his notebook, high rank in his calling was not prophesied by his best friends, but his wife knew she was well off. They had been married eight years, and if only Providence had blessed a harmonious union in a becoming manner, Eliza Kelly would not have found it in her heart to envy the greatest lady in the land. But Providence had not done so, the more was the pity.
"By the way,"—Eliza suddenly broke a silence—"there's a piece of news for you, Hattie. A friend is coming to see you at five."
"A friend—to see me!"
"To see you, my dear. In fact, I might say an admirer. Can't you guess who?"
"I certainly can't."
"Then I think you ought." Mischief had yielded to laughter of a rather quizzical kind.
"I didn't know that I had any admirers—in Laxton."
The touch of manner delicately suggested ducal circles.
"You can have a husband for the asking, our Harriet."
