"Ring the bell."
Constance Bride was sent for. Some moments passed; Lady Ogram stamped impatiently. She ordered May to ring again, and demanded why Miss Bride kept her waiting. Considerably more than five minutes had elapsed before the figure of the secretary appeared: her face wore an expression of proud indifference, and at the sight of May's subdued, timid air, she smiled coldly.
"Why have you been so long?" cried Lady Ogram.
"I came as soon as I could," was the clear reply.
"Now listen to me, Constance," broke vehemently from the bloodless lips. "I'll have no nonsense! You understand that? I'll not be played with. Deceive me, or treat me in any way unbecomingly, and you shall remember it the longest day you live. I want to know whether Lord Dymchurch said anything to you to explain his sudden departure?"
"To me? Certainly not."
"Now mind! I'll get at the truth of this. You know me! May says that Lord Dymchurch never proposed to her at all. What do you make of that?"
Constance glanced at Miss Tomalin, whose eyes fell. Again she smiled.
"It's very strange," she answered, with a certain air of sympathy. "That's really all I can say. It's impossible to have any opinion about such a personal matter, which doesn't in the least concern me."
"Please remember, aunt," put in May, "that I only said I didn't understand Lord Dymchurch in that sense."