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Lady Henry had treated her companion with a contemptuous and haughty ill-humor. Face to face with her mistress, Mademoiselle Le Breton had borne it with submission, almost with servility. But now, as she stood silent behind the blind old lady who had flouted her, her wonderfully expressive face, her delicate frame, spoke for her with an energy not to be mistaken. Her dark eyes blazed. She stood for anger; she breathed humiliation.
Sir Wilfrid pondered a moment. "Yes. Her face haunted me, when I first saw it. But--no; no, I can't put any names."Lady Henry gave a little snort of disappointment."Well, think. You knew her mother quite well. You have known her grandfather all your life. If you're going on to the Foreign Office, as I suppose you are, you'll probably see him to-night. She is uncannily like him. As to her father, I don't know--but he was a rolling-stone of a creature; you very likely came across him.""I knew her mother and her father?" said Sir Wilfrid, astonished and pondering."They had no right to be her mother and her father," said Lady Henry, with grimness."