And, on the other hand, there was the warning of Lady Angela, so earnestly expressed, so solemn, almost sad.

How could I see light through all these things?
How could I hope to understand?
The Duke came punctually, spruce and debonnair, a small rose in his buttonhole, his wizened cheeks aglow with the smart of the stinging east wind.

With him came Lord Chelsford, whose face and figure were familiar enough to me from the pages of the illustrated papers.

Dark, spare, and tall, he spoke seldom, but I felt all the while the merciless investigation of his searching eyes.

The Duke, on the other hand, seemed to have thrown aside some part of his customary reserve.