“He can't be serious, you mean,” answered the young lady, “and—who's this?” she broke off, as she saw a cab drive up to the hall-door. “Dear me! is it? No. Yes, indeed, it is Sir Richard Arden. We must not be seen together. He'll know you have been talking to me. Just go in here.”
She opened the door of the boudoir adjoining the room.
“I'll send him away in a moment. You may hear every word I have to say. I should like it. I shall give him a lecture.”
As she thus spoke she heard his step on the stair, and motioned Lady May into the inner room, into which she hurried and closed the door, leaving it only a little way open.
These arrangements are hardly completed when Sir Richard is announced. Grace is positively angry. But never had she looked so beautiful; her eyes so tenderly lustrous under their long lashes; her colour so brilliant—an expression so maidenly and sad. If it was acting, it was very well done. You would have sworn that the melancholy and agitation of her looks, and the slightly quickened movement of her breathing, were those of a person who felt that the hour of her fate had come.
With what elation Richard Arden saw these beautiful signs!
CHAPTER LXVI.
A BUBBLE BROKEN.
