It came over her that she was in a fair way to drift off completely from her own people; they and she were borne on dividing currents.
A sudden longing for the old faces, the old ties and associations came over her as she stood there; a strange fit of home-sickness, an inrushing sense of exile.
Her people—oh, her people!—to be back once more among them! When all was said, she had been so happy there.
A servant entered with a letter.
Judith, glancing again at the clock, saw that it was nearly eight, and said, as she opened the envelope,
“Has Mr. Lee-Harrison come in?”
He had come in half an hour ago, when she had been dressing, and had gone straight to his room.
The gong sounded for dinner as the man spoke, and a few minutes afterwards Bertie came tripping in, fully equipped for the festivities of the evening.
“Blanche expects us early,” said Judith as she swept across to the dining-room and took her place at the little round table.
Bertie looked across at her doubtfully, then put his spoon into the excellent white soup before him.