Constance began in a low, nervous voice. She was looking at Lashmar, who, with an air of constraint, moved towards them.
"What is it?"
"Will you let me speak to you for a moment before—"
"No!"
With this stern monosyllable, Lady Ogram dismissed her, entered the room, and closed the door.
Then her face changed. A smile, which was more than half a grin of pain, responded to Lashmar's effusive salutation; but she spoke not a word, and, when she had sunk into the nearest chair, her eyes, from beneath drooping lids, searched the man's countenance.
"Sit down," were her first words.
Lashmar, convinced that Constance Bride had sought to avenge herself, tried to screw up his courage. He looked very serious; he sat stiffly; he kept his eye upon Lady Ogram's.
"Well, what have you to tell me?" she asked, with a deliberation more disconcerting than impatience would have been.
"Everything goes on pretty well—"