Jean seemed to see them walking past her in a procession--girls who had maids to do their hair in the most approved fashion, constantly renewed girls whose clothes were a dream of daintiness all charming, all witty, all fitted to be wife to a man like Lord Bidborough.

What was he doing now, Jean wondered.

Perhaps dancing, or sitting out with someone.

Jean could see him so clearly, listening, smiling, with lazy, amused eyes.

By now he must be thankful that the penny-plain girl at Priorsford had not snatched at the offer he had made her, but had had the sense to send him away.