The three were soon equipped for their journey. As the day was soft and warm, almost threatening to be sultry and overcoming, the completion of their toilets consisted in donning country straw hats, dainty lace capes, and gloves. Lady Quaintree folded a soft white shawl of fine silky wool about her, and they descended to the carriage, having hurriedly partaken of luncheon prepared by Mrs. Ormsby.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE EXPRESS TO LONDON.
“What messages are we to leave for Captain Desfrayne, my dear?” asked Lady Quaintree of Lois.
They had both left his name to the last, each loath to be the one to recall it.
Her ladyship noted, while apparently trying to master a refractory button on her glove, that the rose tint on Lois’ cheeks deepened, and then flowed over the rest of her face, while the long, dark lashes drooped.
“Dear madam,” said the young girl, “that is a question I should rather have asked you, who know so much better than I do the proper things to be said.”
“Proper, my love,” repeated the old lady, smiling. “It is not a matter of saying ‘proper’ or ‘civil’ things. What do you wish to say?”
The color faded from Lois’ face, and then flowed back again in a roseate glow.
“I am sure Miss Dormer and I are both most grateful to Captain Desfrayne for his kindness——” began Lois.