Why was she immured in this stupid room, to
which Lady Dunstable had conducted her with a chill politeness which had
said plainly enough "Here you are--and here you stay!--till dinner!"
"If I could only find a back-staircase," she thought, "I would soon be
enjoying myself! Arthur, lucky wretch, said something about playing
golf. No!--there he is!"
And sure enough, on the farthest edge of the lawn going towards the
park, she saw two figures walking--Lady Dunstable and Arthur! "Deep in
talk of course--having the best of times--while I am shut up
here--half-past six!--on a glorious evening!" The reflection, however,
was, on the whole, good-humoured. She did not feel, as yet, either
jealous or tragic. Some day, she supposed, if it was to be her lot to
visit country houses, she would get used to their ways. For Arthur, of
course, it was useful--perhaps necessary--to be put through his paces by
a woman like Lady Dunstable. "And he can hold his own. But for me? I
contribute nothing. I don't belong to them--they don't want me--and what
use have I for them?"
Her meditations, however, were here interrupted by a knock.
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