Nell of Shorne Mills

"Yes? She's awfully pretty. And very young, too. A connection of the

Wolfers', isn't she? Rather sad face."

"A face with a history," said Lady Angleford, more to herself than the

duchess. "Do you know anything about her, duchess?"

Her grace shrugged her fat shoulders sleepily.

"Nothing at all. She's here as a kind of lady companion, or something of

the sort. Yes, she's pretty, decidedly. Are you going on to the

Meridues' reception?"

Nell sat down and played her prelude rather nervously; then she sang one

of the songs which she had sung in The Cottage at Shorne Mills--one of

the songs to which Drake had never seemed tired of listening. There was

a lull in the lifeless, perfunctory conversation, and one or two of the

sleepy women murmured: "Thank you! Thank you very much!"

"Bravo! Sing us something else, Nell!" said Lady Wolfer.

Nell was in the middle of the second song when the men filed in. Some of

them came straight into the room and sought the women they wanted,

others hung about the doors, and, hiding their yawns, glanced quite

openly at their watches.

The earl made his way to his wife where she was sitting by the fire, her

eyes fixed on the flames, which she could just see over the top of her

hand screen.

"I have to go on to the Meridues' when these have gone," he said. "Are

you coming, Ada?"

She glanced up at him. His eyes were fixed on the bosom of her dress, on

the spot where the white blossom had shone conspicuously, but shone no

longer; and there was a wistful, yearning expression on his grave face.

She did not raise her eyes.

"I don't know. I may be tired. Perhaps I may follow you."

He bowed, almost as he would have bowed to a stranger; then, as he was

turning away, he said casually, but with a faint tremor in his voice: "You have lost your flower!"

She raised her eyes and looked at him coldly.

"My flower? Ah, yes. My maid must have put it in insecurely."

The earl said nothing, but his grave eyes slowly left her face and

wandered to Sir Archie and the flower in his buttonhole.

"I will wait for you until twelve," he said, with cold courtesy.

Lady Wolfer rose and went toward Lady Angleford.

"I wish you'd join us, my dear," she said. "Why, the woman movement

sprang from America. You ought to sympathize with us."