But at the back of her thoughts lurked the remembrance of Sally Salisbury's mocking face, of her vulgar spite.

She was not altogether convinced that Lancelot Vane was insensible to Sally's undoubted attractions.

She sighed.
"To-morrow, then," went on Gay, "I shall bring you the songs I want you to learn." They had now come in sight of Betty's cottage.

Lavinia pointed it out to her companion, and Gay, bidding her adieu, turned in the direction of Hampstead village.
Pensively Lavinia walked towards the cottage.

She had told herself over and over again that she cared no more for Lancelot--that she had blotted him out of her life--that she wanted neither to see him nor to hear of him.