"Your husband is here, Lady Auchester?" she said, quite calmly.
"I will bring him to you," said Leslie, promptly.
She found Yorke, and put her arm through his, pressing it to give him courage, for in all cases like this the bravest man is as like as not to prove an arrant coward.
"She is here, Yorke! Now, mind!"
"Oh, Lord!" he groaned. Then he pulled himself together quite suddenly. "If she can go through it, I can!" he said, grimly.
In another moment they were facing each other—Yorke with an unconsciously stern face, Lady Eleanor with a faint smile which masked more than pen can tell.
"How do you do, Lord Auchester?" she said, giving him her hand.
Yorke took it, and for a moment he found that it trembled; but he said afterwards that he thought it was only fancy.
Then, without another word, she turned and moved away.
They met—they were bound to meet—often in the after years, but it was never more than "How do you do, Lord Auchester?" "I hope you are well, Lady Eleanor?" until Leslie's first girl was born.