There was something familiar about his figure and the slight droop of his head.
"Why, it's Sir Henry!" Lessingham exclaimed, as the man turned around.
"My husband," Philippa faltered.
Sir Henry, if indeed it were he, seemed afflicted with a sudden shortsightedness.

He met the incredulous gaze both of Lessingham and his wife without recognition or any sign of flinching.

At that distance it was impossible to see the tightening of his lips and the steely flash in his blue eyes.
"The whiting seem to have brought him a long way," Philippa said, with an unnatural little laugh.
"Shall I go and speak to him ?" Lessingham asked.
"For heaven's sake, no!" she insisted.

"Don't leave me.

I wouldn't have him come near me for anything in the world.