This was the signal for the dispersion of the little group. And they all bade good-night and retired.
So ended Odalite’s second wedding day.
CHAPTER XVI
THE NEXT MORNING
It was a drizzling, chilly, cheerless day—one of those relapses into winter into which early spring sometimes falls.
Not one of the family had been able to sleep well after such a harassing evening as they had passed.
They assembled around the breakfast table with pale faces and careworn looks.
The table was full, and even crowded, with family and guests—sixteen in all.
Odalite was the last to come in. Her face was deathly white, and showed signs of an anxious and sleepless night. Yet she greeted the whole party with a wan smile and a slight bow as she took her seat.
Not one word was said of the ordeal soon to be passed through. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Force would allude to it, and no one else durst.
The conversation went on, or, rather, failed to go on, in abortive jets.