But Dot sat silent, her fingers straining against each other, her eyes
fixed straight before her, seeing yet unseeing, as one beneath a spell.

There was a momentary pause. The room was full of the harsh babel of
men's voices. The drinks were being distributed.

Suddenly a voice spoke out above the rest. "Here's to the new manager!
Good luck to him! Bill Warden, here's to you! Success and plenty of it!"

Instantly the hubbub increased a hundredfold. Bill Warden swung round
laughing to face the clamour, and the tension went out of Dot. She
drooped forward with a weary gesture. As in a dream she heard the
laughter and the shouting. It seemed to sweep around her in great billows
of sound. But she was too tired to notice, too tired to care. He did not
know her. She was sure of that now. He had forgotten. The memory that
had affected her so poignantly had slipped like a dim cloud below his
horizon. The glory had departed, and life was grey and cold.

"You are tired," said Fletcher's voice beside her. "Would you like to
go?"

She looked up at him. His eyes were searching hers, and swiftly she
realized that this discovery that she had made must be kept a secret. If
Hill began to suspect, he would very quickly ferret out the truth, and
the man would be ruined. She knew Hill's stern justice. He would act
instantly and without mercy if he knew the truth.

She braced herself with a great effort to baffle him. "No, oh, no!" she
said. "I am really not tired. Do play! I should love to see you play."