"Do you think"—she suggested. "Is it possible"—
"It really looks very like it," said Miss Pilcher; "though it is scarcely to be credited. See how pale and angry he looks."
Mrs. Burnham glanced toward him, and then a slight smile illuminated her countenance.
"How furious," she remarked cheerfully, "how furious Lady Theobald will be!"
Naturally, it was not very long before the attention of numerous other ladies was directed to Mr. Francis Barold. It was observed that he took no share in the festivities, that he did not regain his natural air of enviable indifference to his surroundings,—that he did not approach Octavia Bassett until all was over, and she was on the point of going home. What he said to her then, no one heard.
"I am going to London to-morrow. Good-by."
"Good-by," she answered, holding out her hand to him. Then she added quickly, in an under-tone, "You oughtn't to think badly of me. You won't, after a while."
As they drove homeward, she was rather silent, and Miss Belinda remarked it.
"I am afraid you are tired, Octavia," she said. "It is a pity that Martin should come, and find you tired."
"Oh! I'm not tired. I was only—thinking. It has been a queer day."