She walked with lighter step, bore herself as though she had thrown off years, and, all through the evening, was a marvel of untiring graciousness and cordiality.

The reaction came when she found herself at liberty to feel weary, but no eye save that of the confidential maid beheld her collapse.

Even whilst being undressed like a helpless infant, the old lady did not lose her temper.

Even whilst gulping an unpleasant draught, well aware that she was not likely to sleep until dawn, if then, she smiled at her thoughts.

The maid wondered what it all meant.
Dyce Lashmar was abundantly satisfied with himself.