seemed for once to be unsure of his ground--both to expect attack, even
to provoke it--and to shrink from it. His eyes were fixed upon Lady
Tatham, and followed her every movement.

Attention was certainly that lady's due; and it failed her rarely. She
had beauty--great beauty; and a personality that refused to be
overlooked. Her dress showed in equal measure contempt for mere fashion,
and a close study of effect. The lines of her long cloak of dull blue
cloth, with its garnishings of sable, matched her stately slenderness
well; and the close-fitting cap over the coiled hair conveyed the same
impression of something perfectly contrived and wholly successful.
Netta thought at first that she was "made up," so dazzling was the
white and pink, and then doubted. The beauty of the face reminded one,
perhaps, of the beauty of a boy--of some clear-eyed, long-chinned
athlete--masterfully simple--a careless conqueror.

How well she and Edmund seemed to know each other! That was the strange,
strange thing in Netta's eyes. Presently she sat altogether silent while
they talked. Melrose still walking up and down--casting quick glances
at his guest. Lady Tatham gave what seemed to be family news--how "John"
had been sent to Teheran--and "George" was to be military secretary in
Dublin--and "Barbara" to the astonishment of everybody had consented to
be made a Woman of the Bedchamber--"poor Queen!"--how Reginald Pratt had
been handsomely turned out of the Middleswick seat, and was probably
going to "rat" to an Opposition that promised more than the
Government--that Cecilia's eldest girl--"a pretty little minx"--had been
already presented, and was likely to prove as skilful a campaigner for a
husband as her mother before her--that "Gerald" had lost heavily at
Newmarket, and was now a financial nuisance, borrowing from everybody in
the family--and so on, and so on.