But it was hard to pity one who was at rest, hard for her
with the world to face afresh that night, without a single friend. The
Carringtons? Well, she would see; and now she had a very definite point
upon which to consult Mr. Carrington. That helped her, and she went,
quietly and unseen as she had come.
There was still a light in the ground-floor windows of the Tite Street
house, strong lights and voices; it was the dining-room, for the
Minchins had dined there once; and the voices did not include a feminine
one that Rachel could perceive. If there were people dining with them,
the ladies must have gone upstairs, and Mrs. Carrington was the woman to
see Rachel for five minutes, and the one woman in England to whom she
could turn. It was an opportunity not to miss--she had not the courage
to let it pass--and yet it required almost as much to ring the bell. And
even as she rang--but not until that moment--did Rachel recognize and
admit to herself the motive which had brought her to that door. It was
not to obtain the advice of a clever man; it was the sympathy of another
woman that she needed that night more than anything else in all the
world.
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