But Durrance only noticed that she was dressed in black.

She understood the question in his mind and answered it.
"My husband died eighteen months ago," she explained in a quiet voice.
"He was thrown from his horse during a run with the Pytchley.

He was killed at once." "I had not heard," Durrance answered awkwardly.

"I am very sorry." Mrs.Adair took a chair beside him and did not reply.

She was a woman of perplexing silences; and her pale and placid face, with its cold correct outline, gave no clue to the thoughts with which she occupied them.