Tracy bowed very low.
“Good-night, madam. Carstares will know which room I had assigned to you. You will find a servant there.”
“Thank you,” she said steadily. “I shall try to forget the happenings of this day, your Grace. I see the truth in what you say—we cannot afford to let the world see that we are at enmity, lest it should talk. And, I confess it freely, I find it less hard to forgive you the insults of—of to-day, since they brought—Jack—to me. An I had not been in such dire straits, I might never have seen him again.”
“In fact,” bowed his Grace, “everything has been for the best!”
“I would not say that, sir,” she replied, and went out.
For a moment there was silence in the room. No one quite knew what to say. As usual, it was Tracy who came to the rescue, breaking an uncomfortable pause.
“I suggest that we adjourn to the dining-room,” he said. “I gather we may have to wait some time before his lordship reappears. O’Hara, after you!”
“One moment,” replied Miles. “Jack’s mare is in a shed somewhere. I said I would see to her.”
“Andrew!” called his Grace. “When you have finished superintending the laying of the supper, give orders concerning Carstares’ mare!”
A casual assent came from outside, and immediately afterwards Lord Andrew’s voice was heard shouting instructions to someone, evidently some way off.
On the whole, the supper-party passed off quite smoothly. His Grace was smilingly urbane, Andrew boisterous and amusing, and O’Hara bent on keeping the conversation up. Richard sat rather silent, but my lord, already deliriously happy, soon let fall his armour and joined in the talk, anxious to hear all the news of town for the last six years.
