Since Harry Luttrell was that night asking Joan to marry him, the hopes upon which she had so long been building, which Jenny Prask had done so much to nurse and encourage, withered and crumbled in an instant.
"I must go back and dance," said Joan with a shiver.
She left Stella Croyle standing in the room like one possessed with visions of terrible things.

Her tragic face and moving lips were to haunt Joan for many a month afterwards.

She went out by the window and ran down the drive to the spot where she had left Miranda's car half-way between the lodge and the house.

The gates had been set open that night against the return of the party from Harrel.

Joan drove back again under the great over-arching trees of the road.