I opened the door for her, and she swept out and across the polished oak and rug-strewn floor of the hall, lifting her eyes to mine for one moment as she passed, full of a strange, sweet light. For a brief while I lingered behind; then, with a great efforts regaining my calmness, I followed her.
CHAPTER XXII
FACE TO FACE
I sat between Lady Olive and her younger sister at dinner, and I have no doubt that both found me very stupid and inattentive. I could neither eat nor drink, talk nor laugh. Even Lady Olive gave me up at last, and devoted her attention to Captain Hasleton, her neighbour on the other side. It was not until dinner was nearly over that I was able to rouse myself in the slightest degree, and by that time Lady Olive had quite lost her temper with me.
"Skating doesn't agree with you, Mr. Arbuthnot," she whispered, when at last Maud had given the signal to rise. "I never knew any one so provokingly stupid in all my life."
I shrugged my shoulders deprecatingly.
"I'm sorry, Lady Olive," I said, grimly, "but if you felt as I do for five minutes you'd forgive me," which was perfectly true.
She looked up at me with a pitying glance, and I suppose something in my expression told her that I was suffering, for her piquant little face clouded over at once.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Arbuthnot. You look as though you had a very bad headache. Come to me in the drawing-room as soon as you can, and I'll give you some sal volatile."
I thanked her a little absently—perhaps without sufficient gratitude, for she was a kind-hearted little woman, although she was such a terrible flirt. But I was eager to watch Maud go by—eager even to be brushed by her garments as she passed.