There was a ring at the Mellors’ front-door bell; as it chanced the maid was out, and Lydia rose from the game of draughts she was playing with her father to go to the door. When she opened it the figure of Annice, with a child in her arms, was revealed against a background of dripping buildings and driving rain. The scene was so like that of the return of a prodigal that Lydia’s heart was instantly touched; she exclaimed, “Come in!” with a cordial inflexion, and stood aside to let Annice pass. Annice stepped in, and was seen to be soaked. Lydia noticed at once that her figure was fuller and her features heavier than of yore; she was rather shabbily dressed in a purple coat, much too tight for her, and a faded straw hat, both of which now glistened with rain. In one arm she enfolded a bundle, pinned with a heavy brooch into a bedraggled grey shawl; from its shape this was presumably Dorothea. In the other hand she carried a battered brown attaché case which seemed on the point of disintegrating, under the assaults of the rain, into the paper of which it was originally composed.
