But, indeed, she was to meet it, more immediately and more dramatically than she had expected. Even as she prepared to speak, she caught, beyond the door, strange shuffling sounds.
The door, rather clumsily, as though handled with muffled fingers, slowly opened.
Framed in it, leaning partly upon Peters, and partly upon a footman, staring at the room and its occupants from beneath the sinister covering of a black high-peaked bonnet, was the Duchess.
The old lady caught, for a second, the vision of her grandchildren, beat down from her face the effect that their presence had upon her, then moved slowly, between her supporters, towards the nearest chair.
CHAPTER VIII
A QUARTETTE
"Her dignity consisted, I do believe, in her recognition, always sure and prompt, of the dramatic moment."—Henry Galleon.