"Not ... er ... to speak to."
"Well, all in good time; you and she used to be rather chummy, and by Jove, she could play tennis a bit! Mrs. De Wolfe, her chaperon, is a crafty old woman, and knows all the best people. She will do her best to fix a coronet, on that girl's head. I hear Lord Lanark is in the last stage of idiocy. I must confess I am rather surprised, that Mrs. De Wolfe allows Miss Nancy to be seen about with that fellow Villars. I am told, that he was always one of the little family party, on Como; painting, boating and caterwauling and all that sort of thing! He got the girl a good deal talked about,—but that's his little way!"
"Mayne never had much to say for himself," thought his companion, "now he did not seem to have a word, to throw at the traditional dog; but appeared to be totally dumb, and an absolutely uninterested listener. Well, there were crowds of other fellows, with whom he could improve the shining half-hour, to town," so with a "See you later on," Cathcart shook off this deadly wet-blanket, and hailed a passing acquaintance.
CHAPTER XXVIII
"ADVICE GRATIS"
For once, Mrs. De Wolfe was hopelessly puzzled; something had happened the day of the races at Sandown; for ever since that date, Nancy was a changed creature; her amazing spirits appeared to have evaporated; she no longer entered into plans, with the same keen enthusiasm, but was restless, nervous, and given to surprising fits of silence. Her anxious chaperon dated this phase, from the afternoon when she had confided her charge into the hands of Jane Wynne; yet Jane Wynne could throw no light on the matter—although her aunt had approached her with the most careful, and subtle questions. The girl did not bet, she had no quarrel with anyone, nor had she lost any treasured bit of jewellery,—something had gone much deeper than that. What was it?
Nancy described in somewhat laborious detail, the crowd, the heat,—which had given her a headache,—she had met masses of people she knew, including the Hicks, and Teddy; the Millers were there in great force, including Lady Miller in a wonderful French frock; but the glare was dreadful, and she had not enjoyed herself one bit. "How I wish I had stayed at home, with you, and sat out in the cool under the trees," she concluded, as she had bent over her old friend, and kissed her between her somewhat bushy eyebrows.
Subsequently, Mrs. De Wolfe (who was credited with eyes in the back of her head) noted, that when they were in the park, at a polo match, or a dance, Nancy seemed to be looking about her nervously, as if in quest of someone: some individual whom she was half afraid to see! Her talk and her manner suffered; she had become preoccupied, absent minded, and silent.—It was a puzzle.—Meanwhile, her young friend was going through a crisis of feeling, almost too terrible to support.
For a whole fortnight, Nancy never caught sight of Mayne, and then she encountered him riding in the park one morning early. He was with a lady. They passed within a few yards of one another; but made no sign. She had felt half inclined to bow, but her impulse had arrived too late.