She went with him blindly, unconscious of the curious eyes that watched her go.
He led her quietly down the church and into the porch. The air from outside, albeit hot and sultry, was less oppressive than within. She drew great breaths of relief as it reached her. The icy grip at her heart seemed to relax.
Tudor watched her narrowly. "What madness brought you here?" he said presently, as she turned at last and mustered a smile of thanks.
She countered the question. "I might ask you the same," she said.
His eyes contracted behind the shielding glasses. "So you might," he said briefly. "Well,—I came on the chance of meeting you."
"Of meeting me!" She looked at him in surprise.
He nodded. "Just so. I want a word with you; but it can't be said here.
Give me an opportunity later if you can!"
His hand fell away from her elbow, he drew back. The bridal procession was coming down the church.
Ina was flushed and laughing. Dick Guyes still obviously nervous, but, also obviously, supremely happy. They went by Avery into a perfect storm of rose-leaves that awaited them from the crowd outside. Yet for one moment the eyes of the bride rested upon Avery, meeting hers almost as if they would ask her a question. And behind her—immediately behind her—came Piers.
His eyes also found Avery, and in an instant with a haughty disregard of Tudor, he had swept her forward with him, his arm thrust imperially through hers. They also weathered the storm of rose-leaves, and as they went Avery heard him laugh,—the laugh of the man who fights with his back to the wall.