Mona looked up gratefully into his face. The advice was almost the same as that which she herself had given to Lucy some months before; but the value of advice is rarely intrinsic—we think far less of its substance than we do of the personality of the giver. The words that are empty platitudes on the lips of one man, become living inspiration on those of another.
To-night, however, even Mr Reynolds had not the power to raise Mona above the longing for happiness. As the months went on, the strain of uncertainty was becoming almost unendurable. Never, since that night when he drove her home in his gig from Colonel Lawrence's Wood, had she heard anything from Dr Dudley; never, since the chance glimpses at Burlington House, had she even seen him. It seemed incredible that he could have failed to find her, if he had really tried; and yet—and yet——
"Oh, my friend, my friend!" she said wearily, "I have waited so long. Where are you?"
CHAPTER LII.
OLD FRIENDS.
"You are late," said Lady Munro. "Had you forgotten that you were going to take us to the theatre?"
She was sitting alone in the firelight, one dainty slippered foot on the burnished fender.
Sir Douglas looked sharply round the room without replying. "Is Mona here?" he said.
"No; she could not spare enough time to come to dinner. We are to call for her."
Sir Douglas frowned.