The roses in the garden sent up their scent, there was a plashing of water from an invisible fountain, and the deer beyond the fence wandered in and out of the broad bands of shadow drawn across the park.
Doris's young feet fidgeted under her.

She longed to be out exploring the woods and the lake.

Why was she immured in this stupid room, to which Lady Dunstable had conducted her with a chill politeness which had said plainly enough "Here you are--and here you stay!--till dinner!" "If I could only find a back-staircase," she thought, "I would soon be enjoying myself! Arthur, lucky wretch, said something about playing golf.

No!--there he is!" And sure enough, on the farthest edge of the lawn going towards the park, she saw two figures walking--Lady Dunstable and Arthur! "Deep in talk of course--having the best of times--while I am shut up here--half-past six!--on a glorious evening!" The reflection, however, was, on the whole, good-humoured.

She did not feel, as yet, either jealous or tragic.