An hour and forty minutes later, Hartley stepped off the train at Floralhurst. He walked quickly to his beautiful two-story cottage with its wide lawn.
A woman with long black hair and a white summer dress came running to meet him. She hugged him tightly.
When they entered the hall, she said:
“Mamma is here. The car will come for her in half an hour. She came to dinner—but there’s no dinner.”
“I must tell you something,” Hartley said seriously. “I wanted to say it gently, but since your mother is here, we may as well say it now.”
He bent down and whispered in her ear.
His wife screamed. Her mother ran into the hall. Then his wife screamed again—but this time with joy.
“Oh, mamma!” she cried happily. “What do you think? Vivienne is coming to cook for us! She is the same girl who worked for the Montgomerys for a whole year. And now, Billy dear,” she added sweetly, “you must go right down to the kitchen and send Hloise away. She has been drunk all day again.”
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