The idea was too impossible, but she must reason it out.
"There was Lord Melton but Lady Melton stayed behind, too, and the Thornbys--all impossible.

There was no one else except Tristram, who I know was in the smoking-room, with a fearful headache, and Mr.
Markrute, who was with the Duke." "Was he with the Duke ?" queried the Crow.
"Crow!" almost gasped Lady Anningford.

"Do you mean to tell me that you think Ethelrida would have her face looking like that about a foreigner! My dear friend, you must have taken leave of your seven senses--" and then she paused, for several trifles came back to her recollection, connected with these two, which, now that the Crow had implanted a suspicion in her breast, began to assume considerable proportions.
Ethelrida had talked of most irrelevant matters always during their good-night chats, unless the subject happened to be Zara, and she had never once mentioned Mr.Markrute personally or given any opinion about him; and yet, as Anne had seen, they had often talked.

There must be something in it, but that was not enough to account for Ethelrida's face.

A pale, rather purely colorless complexion like hers did not suddenly change to bright scarlet cheeks, without some practical means! And, as Anne very well knew, kisses were a very practical means! But her friend Ethelrida would never allow any man to kiss her, unless she had promised to marry him.