Lady Ada laughed with barely concealed impatience and scorn.
“I am so glad we have met, Miss Chetwynde,” she said; “for in addition to the gratitude which I owe you, I feel that we shall be great friends—that is, if you care for my friendship.”
“Oh, yes,” said Esmeralda, “it is very kind of you.”
“You must come and see me,” said Lady Ada. “Ask Lady Wyndover to bring you as soon as she can; and you must tell me all—all your difficulties. Things must seem so strange to you, just at first, and perhaps I can help you.”
As she spoke, Trafford came up with Lady Wyndover on his arm.
“Will you hold my bouquet a moment, Lord Trafford?” said Lady Ada; “I have torn my dress.”
As they drew a little apart, and she bent down to examine her train, she said in a low voice:
“You see I am keeping my promise.”
“I see. I am sorry. Let it alone,” he said.
“She is a block of wood—a stone!” she murmured. “You will have hard work to secure her. You will never do it, meeting her only in places like this. Take them for a drive to-morrow. Get her alone with you.”