"Do you feel faint, Miss Lorton? It's very hot up here. Would you like
to go down----"

"No, no!" said Nell quickly, almost anxiously. She did not want to go.
It was agony to see him dancing with this beautiful woman, whose hair
shone like gold, whose grace of form and movement were conspicuous even
among so many graceful and beautiful women; but a kind of fascination
made Nell feel as if she could not go, as if she must drain her cup of
misery to the dregs. "No, no; I am not faint--not now. It is hot, but I
am--all right."

She gazed with set face and panic-stricken eyes at the couple, as they
floated down the room again. It was Drake, but--how changed! He looked
many years older--and his face was stern and grave--sterner and graver
and sadder even than when she had first seen it that day the horse had
flung him at her feet. It had grown brighter and happier while he had
stayed at Shorne Mills--it had been transformed, indeed, for the few
short weeks he had been her lover; but the look of content, of joy in
life which it wore in her remembrance, had gone again. Had he been ill?
she wondered. Where had he been; what had he been doing?

But it did not matter, could not matter to her. He was back in England,
and dancing with the woman he loved--with the beautiful Lady Luce, whom
he had kissed on the terrace.