Which Val did not see at all, and decidedly refused to go out again.
Meanwhile the countess-dowager and Maude were wondering what had become of him.

They supposed he was still sitting in the dining-room.

The old dowager fidgeted about, her fingers ominously near the bell.

She was burning to send to him, but hardly knew how he might take the message: it might be that he would object to leading strings, and her attempt to put them on would ruin all.

But the time went on; grew late; and she was dying for her tea, which she had chosen should wait also.