She walked beside a decrepit old
gentleman whom David at once surmised to be Albert Portman. A maid and
a male attendant followed close behind. Christine was not in sight.
Mrs. Braddock saw Grand when not more than half a dozen paces
separated them. She almost stopped in her tracks. David detected the
look of surprise and dismay in her face. She and Grand were staring
hard at each other, but neither made the slightest pretense of
anything more than visual recognition. She averted her gaze after a
moment of uncertainty, and, with her head erect, passed close by the
Colonel and his daughter, both of whom were scrutinizing her with
brazen interest.
She did not see David Jenison, although he might have touched her by
moving two steps forward. Disconcerted by the rude, insolent stare
that was leveled jointly by her old enemy and his daughter, a vivid
flush mantled her cheek and brow.
Time had made few changes in her appearance. Her face was softer,
gentler if possible; her carriage was as erect and as proud as ever.
She was modestly, unobtrusively attired, as David expected she would
be.
After she had passed, the young man turned his attention again to the
crowd, his nerves jumping with eagerness.
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