Lady Lisle groaned.
“And it went on ever so long, my lady,” continued Jane, whose hesitation was turned now in her excitement to volubility; “and then, as I stood there at the window listening, she jumped out, and I drew my head in; but I peeped out once more and she—”
“She?” gasped Lady Lisle, again.
“Oh, yes, my lady, it was a she, of course, for I just caught sight of her face as she turned to hold the gate back when she went through on her bicycle. It was a girl in national costume”—Jane meant rational—“and she was very little and very pretty and one side of her hair had come half down.”
“Oh!” groaned Lady Lisle, closing her eyes and reeling towards the nearest chair; but she would not have reached it if the girl with clever alertness had not caught her round the waist and saved her from a fall.
“Oh, don’t—don’t faint, my lady!—Pray—pray hold up!”
“I shall be better directly, Jane,” said the poor woman, hoarsely. “Let me sit still a few moments. Ha!” she sighed. “I am coming round. That giddiness is passing away.”
“Let me fetch you your salts, my lady.”
“No, Jane; I shall not need them. There, I am growing strong again. Yes, I can go on now.”
“Go on, my lady?”