She glanced carelessly at her husband as she spoke, then started at the change in him; his whole face had altered, the expression of careless interest had died, the color and light had died, his dark eyes had a strained, bewildered look; they were shadowed as though by some great doubt or fear.
"Lance," said his wife, "are you not well? You look so strange—quite unlike yourself."
He turned away lest she should see his face more plainly, and then she continued:
"If you are not well, we will go home, dear; nothing will interest me without you."
He made a great effort and spoke to her; but the very tone of his voice was altered, all the sweetness and music had gone out of it.
"I am well," he said, "pray do not feel anxious over me; the house is very full and very warm."
"What do you think of La Vanira?" continued Lady Chandos; "how very different she is to any one else."
He laughed, and the sound was forced and unnatural.
"I think she is very wonderful," he replied.
"And beautiful?" asked Lady Marion, with a look of eager anxiety.