"
There was more waiting. The countess-dowager flounced about in her pink
satin gown; but it did not bring the loiterers any the sooner. Lady
Maude--perverse still, but beautiful--talked in whispers to the hero of
the day, Mr. Shute; wearing a blue-silk robe and a blue wreath in her
hair. Anne, adhering to the colours of Lord Hartledon, though he had been
defeated, was in a rich, glistening white silk, with natural flowers, red
and purple, on its body, and the same in her hair. Her sweet face was
sunny again, her eyes were sparkling: a word dropped by Dr. Ashton had
given her a hope that, perhaps, Percival Elster might be forgiven
sometime.
He was the first of the culprits to make his appearance. The dowager
attacked him of course. What did he mean by keeping dinner waiting?
Val replied that he was late in coming home; he had been out. As to
keeping dinner waiting, it seemed that Lord Hartledon was doing that:
he didn't suppose they'd have waited for him.
He spoke tartly, as if not on good terms with himself or the world. Anne
Ashton, near to whom he had drawn, looked up at him with a charming
smile.
"Things may brighten, Percival," she softly breathed.
"It's to be hoped they will," gloomily returned Val. "They look dark
enough just now."
"What have you done to your face?" she whispered.
"To my face? Nothing that I know of."
"The forehead is red, as if it had been bruised, or slightly grazed.
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