’ The lady stamped her foot. Probably the latter, for the thronging ballroom was insufferably hot. I’ve tried to use my authority. I received a telegram, as you know, during dinner. ‘It is London’s loss, ma’am. "No, no!" With a gesture, fierce and intolerant, she seized the Bible and thrust it out of sight, into the drawer. Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. He had scarcely completed his toilet, when he was startled by a noise at the door, and heard his own name pronounced in no friendly accents. He was in love with her! She tried to grasp all the welter of values in the situation simultaneously, and draw some conclusion from their disorder.
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