The servant drew back deferentially. “Her ladyship has almost finished lunch, sir,” he said.
For answer Chilcote stepped through the door-way and walked half-way across the hall.
“All right,” he said. “But don't disturb her on my account. I'll wait in the white room till she has finished.” And, without taking further notice of the servant, he began to mount the stairs.
In the room where he had chosen to wait a pleasant wood-fire brightened the dull January afternoon and softened the thick, white curtains, the gilt furniture, and the Venetian vases filled with white roses. Moving straight forward, Chilcote paused by the grate and stretched his hands to the blaze; then, with his usual instability, he turned and passed to a couch that stood a yard or two away.
On the couch, tucked away between a novel and a crystal gazing-ball, was a white Persian kitten, fast asleep. Chilcote picked up the ball and held it between his eyes and the fire; then he laughed superciliously, tossed it back into its place, and caught the kitten's tail. The little animal stirred, stretched itself, and began to purr. At the same moment the door of the room opened.
Chilcote turned round. “I particularly said you were not to be disturbed,” he began. “Have I merited displeasure?” He spoke fast, with the uneasy tone that so often underran his words.
Lady Astrupp took his hand with a confiding gesture and smiled.
“Never displeasure,” she said, lingeringly, and again she smiled. The smile might have struck a close observer as faintly, artificial. But what man in Chilcote's frame of mind has time to be observant where women are concerned? The manner of the smile was very sweet and almost caressing—and that sufficed.
“What have you been doing?” she asked, after a moment. “I thought I was quite forgotten.” She moved across to the couch, picked up the kitten, and kissed it. “Isn't this sweet?” she added.
She looked very graceful as she turned, holding the little animal up. She was a woman of twenty-seven, but she looked a girl. The outline of her face was pure, the pale gold of her hair almost ethereal, and her tall, slight figure still suggested the suppleness, the possibility of future development, that belongs to youth. She wore a lace-colored gown that harmonized with the room and with the delicacy of her skin.