Anne Ashton, near to whom he had drawn, looked up at him with a charming smile.
"Things may brighten, Percival," she softly breathed.
"It's to be hoped they will," gloomily returned Val.

"They look dark enough just now." "What have you done to your face ?" she whispered.
"To my face?
Nothing that I know of." "The forehead is red, as if it had been bruised, or slightly grazed." Val put his hand up to his forehead.

"I did feel something when I washed just now," he remarked slowly, as though doubting whether anything was wrong or not.

"It must have been done--when I--struck against that tree," he added, apparently taxing his recollection.
"How was that ?" "I was running in the dusk, and did not notice the branch of a tree in my way.

It's nothing, Anne, and will soon go off." Mr.Carteret came in, looking just as Val Elster had done--out of sorts.
Questions were showered upon him as to the fate of the race; but the dowager's voice was heard above all.
"This is a pretty time to make your appearance, sir! Where's Lord Hartledon ?" "In his room, I suppose.