She entered the dining-room ahead of the others, as usual. She took nine steps before she stopped short. Her face went pale.
Nobody had stopped eating!
Nobody had turned around to stare!
Nobody had stage-whispered, "There she is!"
No woman had said, "Do you think she is as beautiful as the newspapers try to make out?"
Not one imbecile male look; not one feminine sneer! Nothing! No fame!
"What's the matter?" asked Monty in alarm.
Grace felt an overwhelming desire to stand there until the people looked, even if it took a year.
As the century-long seconds passed she barely could resist the impulse to shout, "Fire!"
"Anything wrong?" whispered Monty, with real concern.