Bad news about her granddaughter, perhaps, or about Maulevrier.

And yet that could hardly be.

Evil tidings of that kind would have reached her by telegram.
Perhaps it was Maulevrier himself.

His movements were generally erratic.
Lady Maulevrier hurried back to the house.

She went through the conservatory, where the warm whiteness of azalia, and spirea, and arum lilies contrasted curiously with the cold white snow out of doors, to the hall, where a stranger was standing talking to the butler.
He was a man of foreign appearance, wearing a cloak lined with sables, and a sable cap, which he removed as Lady Maulevrier approached.