Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. The great door of the Stone Hall was thrown open, and the sheriffs, preceded by the javelin-men, entered the room. Heaven forbid. On Monday Charvill had still not returned, and the major duly presented himself at Mrs Chalkney’s house in Grosvenor Square, thanking his stars that his friend Roding would not be there to spoil sport. It has become a part of the order of my life.
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