But as she spoke the force imparted by resentment died away. Lady Lucy sank back in her chair.
"And Oliver felt it very much?" asked Sir James, after a pause, his shrewd eyes upon her.
"He was wounded, of course--he has been more depressed since; but I have never believed that he was in love with her."
Sir James did not pursue the subject, but the vivacity of the glance bent now on the fire, now on his companion, betrayed the marching thoughts behind.
"Will Oliver see me this evening?" he inquired, presently.
"I hope so. He promised me to make the effort."
A servant knocked at the door. It was Oliver's valet.
"Please, my lady, Mr. Marsham wished me to say he was afraid he would not be strong enough to see Sir James Chide to-night. He is very sorry--and would Sir James be kind enough to come and see him after breakfast to-morrow?"
Lady Lucy threw up her hands in a little gesture of despair, Then she rose, and went to speak to the servant in the doorway.
When she returned she looked whiter and more shrivelled than before.