"You ran through the hall," the maid went on, "just like a frightened hare, and cast never a look at one of us, and now—the saints preserve us, thou look'st as if thou hadst seen the ghost of Mary Durden."
"Was he following me, Lettice?" asked Dorothy, raising her head from the pillow. "Was he there?"
"Following thee, no. Who's he? There was no one else went through."
"I thought he was close behind."
"Who?"
"De la Zouch."
"Sir Henry de la Zouch!" repeated the maid. "'Tis he then who has been treating thee so ill. Were he not a noble, my Will should thrash him soundly for daring to offend so sweet a lady."
"Take these balls to Master Manners, Lettice," said her mistress, composing herself as well as she was able. "You will find him waiting for them on the bowling green. Tell him I will rejoin him soon."
Lettice unfastened the door and disappeared down the passage in obedience to the command whilst Dorothy re-arranged her disordered head-dress, hesitating the while whether to venture out again or to stay within doors.
Ere she had decided which course to take, Lettice returned. Her face was deeply flushed and her manner unusually agitated.