As happy as Derrick, Celia hurried back to the Hall. So suddenly had
come her happiness, so swiftly and unexpectedly had her life been
suffused by joy, that she was dazzled and bewildered, as one is dazzled
and bewildered by the bursting of the midday sunlight through a bank of
clouds. It seemed almost impossible to realise that he was back in
England, near at hand, that he loved her, that he had held her in his
arms; but the warmth of his kisses still lingered on her lips and helped
her unbelief.

As she entered the hall, Heyton sauntered out of the smoking-room; the
eternal cigarette was between his thick lips, his hands were thrust in
his pockets; the smile, which Celia so much disliked, greeted her
appearance, and his eyes roved over her with, the expression which
always raised Celia's resentment.

"Hallo!" he exclaimed, with an offensive familiarity. "Been for a walk?
By Jove! you look ripping, Miss Grant! Been enjoying yourself, to judge
by the look of you! I wish you would let me come with you; I might have
enjoyed myself too. I'm pretty well bored stiff; there's nothing to do
here, and the old place is dull as ditch-water; gives me the horrors.
But I say, you'll be late for dinner. Hurry up and come and dine with
us, won't you?"

"Thank you, Lord Heyton," said Celia, "but I dine alone in my own little
room."