Wilfrid's unspoken comment.

But they had entered the inner room. Lady Henry looked round. Over her
wrinkled face, now parchment-white, there shone a ray of
pleasure--sudden, vehement, and unfeigned.

"Sir Wilfrid!"

She made a movement as though to rise from her chair, which was checked
by his gesture and her helplessness.

"Well, this is good fortune," she said, as she put both her hands into
both of his. "This morning, as I was dressing, I had a feeling that
something agreeable was going to happen at last--and then your note
came. Sit down there. You know Dr. Meredith. He's as quarrelsome as
ever. Captain Warkworth--Sir Wilfrid Bury."

The square-headed, spectacled journalist addressed as Dr. Meredith
greeted the new-comer with the quiet cordiality of one for whom the day
holds normally so many events that it is impossible to make much of any
one of them. And the man on the farther side of Lady Henry rose and
bowed. He was handsome, and slenderly built. The touch of impetuosity in
his movement, and the careless ease with which he carried his curly
head, somehow surprised Sir Wilfrid. He had expected another sort
of person.

"I will give you my chair," said the Captain, pleasantly. "I have had
more than my turn."

"Shall I bring in the Duchess?" said Mademoiselle Le Breton, in a low