I touched her hand for a moment. The dog's face was wrinkled like a monkey's, he growled, and his narrow red tongue shot out threateningly.
"It is that," I murmured, "which I shall pray for!"
She raised her head suddenly. We heard Lady Dennisford moving upon the terrace. She leaned over towards me.
"Leslie Guest," she whispered, "will not live for more than forty-eight hours. Make him tell you—to-night! To-morrow may be too late. Do you hear?—to-night!"
I was absolutely tongue-tied. Wherever else she failed, she was certainly a superb actress. A moment ago, she had been keeping my earnestness at bay with bantering words; then, at the sound of Lady Dennisford's approach, had come those few dramatic words; and now, at her entrance, I felt at once that I was the casual guest, being entertained as a matter of duty during my hostess' absence.
"I told you, didn't I, that I had met Mr. Courage in town?" she remarked, looking up. "After all, it is such a small world, isn't it?"
Lady Dennisford was scarcely in a condition to be observant. I believe that if we had been sitting hand in hand, she would scarcely have noticed the fact. She was very pale, and her eyes were exceedingly bright. She passed half-way through the room without even seeming to realize our presence. Then she stopped suddenly and addressed me.
"I am ordering a pony-cart," she said, "to take Mr. Guest back. He seems over-fatigued."
"Very thoughtful of you, Lady Dennisford," I answered. "We certainly did not mean to walk so far when we came out into the park."
A servant entered the room. She gave him some orders, and then, with a word of excuse to Adèle, she came over to my side.