Truly, Captain Desfrayne on his way to London to consult Frank Amberley. He recognized the ladies as he balanced himself on the step of the carriage.
Had it been possible, he would have drawn back, and gone anywhere rather than continue this journey in Lois’ company. For a second his eyes met hers. New hope, clouded by pain and uncertainty, beamed in his; fear, timid reproach, inquiry, doubt, glanced from hers.
Blanche could not help exchanging a look of amazement with Lois, nor could it escape her notice that the telltale crimson mounted to Miss Turquand’s cheeks, just now so pale.
“Captain Desfrayne! An unexpected pleasure,” said Lady Quaintree, extending her hand, though secretly ill pleased.
“Quite so,” answered Captain Desfrayne, himself anything but delighted. “I had not the most distant idea you and Miss Turquand intended to quit Flore Hall so soon.”
He could not hinder his eyes from wandering to Lois’ face. The young girl, filled with anger at his inconsistent conduct, averted her head, and gazed from the window. When she stole a glance at him again, he was looking from the window on his side, his face clouded by the care and trouble that seemed rarely absent.
Nobody said much during the journey; for subjects of conversation were not readily found, and even Blanche had abundant matter for mental consideration.
To Lois and Paul Desfrayne, it seemed like a dream more than reality.
The thickly clustered houses, the red-tiled roofs and chimney-pots began to give intimation that they were nearing London.
“We may not hope, then, to see much of you this week, at any rate?” Lady Quaintree observed, shaking herself out of a brief slumber.