Yet, if it could only have been come at, the Night was as full of emotion as this woman who wandered, shrinking away against the banks if anyone passed, stopping to cool her hot face with the dew on the ferns, walking swiftly to console her warm heart.
Anonymous Night seeking for a symbol could have found none better than this errant figure, to express its hidden longings, the fluttering, unseen rushes of its dark wings, and all its secret passion of revolt against its own anonymity....
At Monkland Court, save for little Ann, the morning passed but dumbly, everyone feeling that something must be done, and no one knowing what.
At lunch, the only allusion to the situation had been Harbinger's inquiry: "When does Miltoun return ?" He had wired, it seemed, to say that he was motoring down that night.
"The sooner the better," Sir William murmured: "we've still a fortnight." But all had felt from the tone in which he spoke these words, how serious was the position in the eyes of that experienced campaigner.
What with the collapse of the war scare, and this canard about Mrs.
Noel, there was indeed cause for alarm.
The afternoon post brought a letter from Lord Valleys marked Express.
Lady Valleys opened it with a slight grimace, which deepened as she read.

Her handsome, florid face wore an expression of sadness seldom seen there.

There was, in fact, more than a touch of dignity in her reception of the unpalatable news.
"Eustace declares his intention of marrying this Mrs.Noel"-- so ran her husband's letter--"I know, unfortunately, of no way in which I can prevent him.

If you can discover legitimate means of dissuasion, it would be well to use them.

My dear, it's the very devil." It was the very devil! For, if Miltoun had already made up his mind to marry her, without knowledge of the malicious rumour, what would not be his determination now?
And the woman of the world rose up in Lady Valleys.