Then she went back home, and found Lord Ledgers, whom she put through his paces, and then she had tea, and dressed for the ball. She had ordered a very remarkable ball-dress from Worth's, just before the baby's death, which had never yet seen the light. It was a soft grey texture, which Dodo said looked like a sunlit mist, and it was strictly half mourning. She felt it was a badge of her freedom, and put it on with a fresh burst of exultation. She had a large bouquet of orchids, which Lord Bretton had caused to be sent her, and a fan painted by Watteau, and a French hair-dresser came and "did" her hair. By this time dinner was ready; and after dinner she sat in her room smoking and singing French songs to Lord Ledgers, who had come to fetch her, and at half-past nine the carriage was announced. About the same moment another carriage drove up to the door, and as Dodo ran downstairs she found her husband in the hall.
She looked at him a moment with undisguised astonishment, and a frown gathered on her forehead.
"You here?" she said. "I thought you weren't coming till late."
"I caught the earlier train," he said; "and where are you off to?"
"I'm going to the Brettons' ball," said Dodo frankly; "I can't wait."
He turned round and faced her.
"Oh, Dodo, so soon?" he said.
"Yes, yes, I must," said Dodo. "You know this kills me, this, sticking here with nothing to do from day to day, and nothing to see, and nobody to talk to. It's death; I can't bear it."
"Very well," he said gently, "you are quite right to go if you want to. But I am not coming, Dodo."
Dodo's face brightened.