Dashwood.

She had not to go far, for she met her just outside the door.

"Oh, Lady Dashwood," began Gwen, "could you, would you mind telling me
what I am to wear for lunch? I'm so sorry to be such a bother, but
I'm----"

Here Gwen stopped short, for her eyes caught sight of a letter in Lady
Dashwood's hand--the letter! If Gwen had known how to faint she would
have tried to faint then; but she didn't know how it was done.

"I found this letter addressed to you," said Lady Dashwood, "in my
room--it had got there somehow." She held it out to the girl, who took
it, reddening as she did so to the roots of her hair. "I found it
opened--I hope I didn't open it by mistake?"

"Oh no," said Gwen, stammering. "I--lost it--somehow. Oh, thanks so
much! Oh, thanks!"

Tears of embarrassment were starting to the girl's eyes, and she turned
away, letter in hand, and went towards her door like a beaten child.

Lady Dashwood gazed after her, pity uppermost in her heart--pity, now
that Belinda and Co. were no longer dangerous.

Safely inside the door, Gwen gave way to regret, and from regret for her
carelessness she went on to wondering wildly what effect the letter
might have had on Lady Dashwood! Had she told the Warden its contents?
Had she read the letter to him?

Gwen squirmed as she walked about her room. There was a look in Lady
Dashwood's face! Oh dear, oh dear!

The dresses lay neglected on the bed; the sight of them only made Gwen's
heart ache the more, for they reminded her of those bright hopes that
had flitted through her brain--hopes of having more important clothes as
the Warden's wife. Gwen had even gone as far as wondering whether Cousin
Bridget might not give her some furs as a wedding present. Cousin
Bridget had spent over a thousand pounds in new furs for herself that
first winter of the war, when the style changed; so was it too much to
expect that Cousin Bridget, who was the wealthy member of the family,
though her husband's title was a new one, might give her a useful
wedding present? Now, the mischance with this letter had probably
destroyed all chances of the Warden marrying her!

She was glad that he had gone away to-day, so that she would not see him
again till the next morning; that gave more time.

She did not want to go to Chartcote to lunch. She would not be able to
eat anything if she felt as miserable as she did now, and she would find
it impossible to talk to any one.

Even her mother's l