As Celia undressed slowly, going over the scene that had taken place in the hall below, recalling the changes in the Marquess's expressive face, his strange manner, with its suggestion of anger and impatience, she sought in vain for an explanation.

Had he actually been annoyed and irritated by her admission that she had noticed a resemblance in the portrait of his dead brother to someone whom she had met?
He had said, emphatically, that it was only a fancied resemblance, and she accepted his decision.

It certainly could be only a freak of imagination on her part, seeing that the Marquess's brother had not married--indeed, it was ridiculous to suppose that there was any connection between the noble family of the Sutcombes and the unknown man in the poverty-stricken room at Brown's Buildings.

Woman-like, her mind dwelt more on him than on the Marquess's impatience and annoyance.

There was something strange, mysterious, in the fact that, not only was she haunted by the memory of the young man, but that here, at Thexford Hall, she should fancy a portrait of one of the family resembled him.
It did not need much to recall him to her mind; for it may be said that in no idle moment of hers was her mind free of him.