and the wind rushed in, filling the wide black hall. There was a
confused suggestion of storm and lantern-light; a vague silhouetted
vision of Burke, bent and small, and of Asshlin, straight, lithe, and
tall. Then the door closed with a thud. Lantern, figures, and storm
were alike shut out from her knowledge. She was alone in the great
house.

CHAPTER XIX

Almost at the same hour that Clodagh sat down to play cards with
Laurence Asshlin at Orristown, Nance was seated with Daisy Estcoit in
the lounge of the Carlton. After her sister's departure, Mrs. Estcoit
had borne her off to be her guest at the hotel; and now, the little
party of four having dined in the restaurant, she had gone to her room
to discuss a business letter with her son, leaving the two girls
ensconced under one of the big palm-trees.

It was very pleasant and interesting to sit there, and watch the groups
seated on the low couches beside the little coffee-tables, or to study
the throng of people that moved constantly through the large glass
doors of the vestibule, and up the flight of shallow steps to the
restaurant itself, with its shaded lights and pretty artificial garden.
The crowd was unusually large for the time of year: the band was
playing a waltz: the whole atmosphere seemed gay and happy to one who
only that morning had performed a great act of love.

"How lovely life is, Daisy!" Nance said suddenly, unconsciously echoing
Clodagh's words on the day of Gore's return to London.

Daisy Estcoit laughed.

"Of course it is--with a trousseau like yours! But look over there--by
the big palm!"

Nance had bent to rearrange some roses in her belt.

"Where? What?" she said, glancing up.

"Don't you see?"

"No. What?"

"Sir Walter Gore. He just rushed through and into the restaurant. He
seems in tremendous haste."

"Walter! Where?" Nance looked round eagerly.

"I've just told you. In the restaurant. But here he is back again! He
must have been looking for some one."

Nance rose from the quiet corner in which they were sitting, and
stepped forward to greet Gore; but, as he came towards her down the
flight of shallow steps, her smile of welcome died, and a look of
surprise and concern crossed her eyes.

"Walter," she said softly.

He looked round at sound of his name.

"Oh! Nance!" he said. His manner was as quiet as usual, but he looked
like a man who has undergone some great fatigue and has not yet found
time to rest.

They