The two ladies advanced towards each other across the lawn, while Meadows followed his wife in speechless confusion and annoyance, utterly at a loss how to extricate either himself or Doris; compelled, indeed, to leave it all to her.

Sir Luke and the Under-Secretary had paused in the drive.

Their looks as they watched Lady Dunstable's progress showed that they guessed at something dramatic in the little scene.
Nothing could apparently have been more unequal than the two chief actors in it.

Lady Dunstable, with the battlements of "the great fortified post" rising behind her, tall and wiry of figure, her black hawk's eyes fixed upon her visitor, might have stood for all her class; for those too powerful and prosperous Barbarians who have ruled and enjoyed England so long.

Doris, small and slight, in a blue cotton coat and skirt, dusty from long travelling, and a childish garden hat, came hesitatingly over the grass, with colour which came and went.
"How do you do, Mrs.Meadows! This is indeed an unexpected pleasure! I must quarrel with your husband for not giving us warning." Doris's complexion had settled into a bright pink as she shook hands with Lady Dunstable.