They were all immensely cheerful and friendly and to Lizzie, white and tired, noisy and horribly robust. She would have liked to have slipped up to her room and stayed there alone until dinner, but Rachel said:
"Oh! you must be perished after that wet journey. Tea's just at its hottest and its freshest. Quick, Roddy—the toast—Never mind the rest of us, Miss Rand—just drink that tea and get warm."
They allowed her to sink back into an easy chair somewhere in the shadow and the tea was very comforting and the stern hall with its crackling fire and its cosy solid shape most friendly. She listened to them all noisily discussing people and dances and horses and dinners. She watched Rachel Seddon, sitting a little gravely, straight in her chair, throwing in a word now and again.
This was the woman.... This was the woman....
She felt a warm tongue that licked her hand. She looked down and saw at her side the oddest dog, a dog like a mat, shapeless with two brown eyes behind its hair and a black wet nose.
There was something about the eyes and the way that the warm body was pressed against her dress that won her instant affection.
"What an adorable animal!" she said to Roddy, who was sitting next to her.
"Oh! Jacob!" he said, laughing. "He really oughtn't to be in here at all—servants' hall's his proper place—If you care for dogs, Miss Rand, I'll show you some——"
As he spoke she caught the dog's eyes and saw in the depths of them shame. He had been sitting, very square and upright, with his eyes gravely fixed, with great interest, upon the company. Then, at the sound of Roddy's voice his head had dropped, instantly he became furtive, his eyes searching for some place of escape.
Her hand caught his rough coat and she drew him to her side and stroked his ears.