“Do you see her now?” whispered Miss Deveen.
“Not now. She was at the door a moment ago.”
“Not now!” exclaimed Miss Deveen, staring at Mrs. Hughes. “Is it not that lady?”
Mr. James sent his eyes in half-a-dozen directions.
“Which lady, ma’am?”
“The one who has just passed in black silk, with the simple white net quilling round the neck.”
“Oh dear, no!” said Mr. James. “I never saw that lady in my life before. The lady, the lady, is dressed in white.”
Miss Deveen looked at him, and I looked. Here, in the rooms, and yet not Mrs. Hughes!
“This is the one,” he whispered, “coming in now.”
The one, turning in at that particular instant, was Sophie Chalk. But others were before her and behind her. She was on Harry Whitney’s arm.