“The cart can come back,” said Archie.
“Thank you,” said Norman, somewhat grimly. “Pray, be on no ceremony.”
“There comes our brougham,” said Sir Adam, shaking hands with Lady Marth, Blanche following his example.
Then came a more affectionate farewell from Hebe, who accompanied them to the drawing-room door.
“I mustn’t go farther,” she said; but Norman Milward crossed the hall to see them off, Mr Dunstan having contented himself with a regulation hand-shake, when standing beside his hostess on the hearthrug.
The air outside felt chilly as they stepped into the carriage, but not so chilly as a strange, unreasonable breath of disappointment, which seemed to pass through Blanche, though, even to herself, she would have shrunk from calling it by such a name.