"I didn't see her in the park. God knows where she is and what has happened to her."
"Oh, nothing's happened to her. You'll see, she'll be home directly after the rain stops. It's just the rain that's keeping her."
But her ladyship did not come home directly the rain stopped. In fact time went by, the sun came out for his last yellow glimpse, and there still was no sign of her. The sun was set, it was growing dark, and the first dinner-gong had rung.
"It's no good!" said Clifford in a frenzy. "I'm going to send out Field and Betts to find her."
"Oh, don't do that!" cried Mrs. Bolton. "They'll think there's suicide or something. Oh, don't start a lot of talk going—Let me slip over to the hut and see if she's not there. I'll find her all right."
So, after some persuasion, Clifford allowed her to go.
And so Connie had come upon her in the drive, alone and palely loitering.
"You mustn't mind me coming to look for you, my Lady! But Sir Clifford worked himself up into such a state. He made sure you were struck by lightning, or killed by a falling tree. And he was determined to send Field and Betts to the wood to find the body. So I thought I'd better come, rather than set all the servants agog."
She spoke nervously. She could still see on Connie's face the smoothness and the half-dream of passion, and she could feel the irritation against herself.
"Quite!" said Connie. And she could say no more.