It was an unexpected dismay--a vague but permeating sickness--a dazed sense that she was being carried by unfamiliar forces toward she knew not what.
She held fast to her sense of triumph.

That was the more apprehendable and positive; triumph was what she had set forth to win.

This sense of triumph was at its highest, and she was resting in its elating security, when a car stopped before the house and a large man got out and started up the steps.

From the first moment there was something familiar to Maggie in his carriage, but not till Miss Sherwood, who had risen and crossed toward him, greeted him as "Mr.Hunt," did Maggie recognize the well-dressed visitor as the shabby, boisterous painter whom she had last seen down at the Duchess's.
Panic seized upon her.

Miss Sherwood was leading him toward where she sat and his first clear sight of her would mean the end.