smiled on him in the Bludston factory. Fear laid a cold grip on his
heart. He thought of pleading weakness and running away to the safe
obscurity of his room. But it was too late. The procession was
formed immediately, and he found himself in his place with his
partner on his arm. Dinner was torture. What he said to his
neighbours he knew not. He dared not look up the table where Lady
Chudley sat in full view. Every moment he expected--ridiculous
apprehension of an accusing conscience--Colonel Winwood to come
and tap him on the shoulder and bid him begone. But nothing
happened. Afterwards, in the drawing-room, Fate drove him into a
corner near Lady Chudley, whose eyes he met clear upon him. He
turned away hurriedly and plunged into conversation with a young
soldier standing by. Presently he heard Miss Winwood's voice.

"Mr. Savelli, I want to introduce you to Lady Chudley."

The fear gripped him harder and colder. How could he explain that he
was occupying his rightful place in that drawing-room? But he held
himself up and resolved to face the peril like a man. Lady Chudley
smiled on him graciously--how well he remembered her smile!--and
made him sit by her side. She was a dark, stately woman of forty,
giving the impression that she could look confoundedly cold and
majestic when she chose. She wore diamonds in her hair and a broad
diamond clasp to the black velvet round her throat.

"Miss Winwood has been telling me what an awful time you've had, Mr.
Savelli," she said pleasantly. "Now, whenever I hear of people
having had pneumonia I always want to talk to them and sympathize
with them."