The girl went, and Doris was left stormily wondering why she had been
such a fool as to bring her. Then her sense of humour conquered, and her
brow cleared. She went to the open window and stood looking over the
park beyond. Sunset lay broad and rich over the wide stretches of grass,
and on the splendid oaks lifting their dazzling leaf to the purest of
skies. The roses in the garden sent up their scent, there was a plashing
of water from an invisible fountain, and the deer beyond the fence
wandered in and out of the broad bands of shadow drawn across the park.
Doris's young feet fidgeted under her. She longed to be out exploring
the woods and the lake. 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. On her