A flash of excitement ran through her. In Lady Evelyn's letter of that
morning there was a mention of Lord Philip. "I told him you were to be
here. He made a note of it, and I do at last believe he won't throw us
over, as he generally does."
She dressed, still in a reverie, speechless under her maid's hands.
Then, as she emerged upon the gallery, looking down upon the ugly hall
of Tallyn, she remembered that she had promised to go back after dinner
and read to Oliver. Her nature rebelled in a moral and physical nausea,
and it was all she could do to meet Lady Lucy at their solitary dinner
with her usual good temper.
CHAPTER XXII
Sir James Chide was giving tea to a couple of guests at Lytchett Manor.
It was a Saturday in late September. The beech-trees visible through the
drawing-room windows were still untouched and heavily green; but their
transformation was approaching. Soon, steeped in incredible splendors of
orange and gold, they would stand upon the leaf-strewn grass, waiting
for the night of rain or the touch of frost which should at last
disrobe them.
"If you imagine, Miss Ettie," said Sir James, severely, to a young lady
beside him, "that I place the smallest faith in any of Bobbie's remarks
or protestations--"
The girl addressed smiled into his face, undaunted.
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