“You are a long time, Mr. Ducaine.  I am waiting for you to give me a lesson at billiards.”

I crossed the hall to her side.

“I thought that as Lord Blenavon had gone out—­”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“That you would evade your duty, which is clearly to stay and entertain your hostess.”

She closed the door and glanced at me curiously.

“What has happened to you?” she asked.  “You look as though you had been with ghosts.”

“Is it so impossible?” I asked, moving a little nearer to the huge log fire.  “What company is more terrifying than the company of our dead thoughts and dead hopes and dead memories?”

“Really, I am afraid that Blenavon must have been a very depressing companion!” she said, leaning her elbow upon the broad mantelpiece.

It was absurd!  I tried to shake myself free from the miseries of the last hour.

“I am afraid it must have been the other way,” I said, “for your brother has gone out.”

“Yes,” she said quietly, “he has gone to that woman at Braster Grange.  I wish I knew what brought her into this part of the country.”

I looked round at the billiard-table.

“Did you mean that you would like a game?” I asked.  “I am rather out of practice, but I used to fancy myself a little.”

“I have no doubt,” she answered, sinking into a low chair, “that you are an excellent player, but I am willing to take it for granted.  I do not wish to play billiards.  Draw that chair up to the fire and talk to me.”

It was of all things what I wished to avoid that night.  But there was no escape.  I obeyed her.

“What your brother has told me is, I presume, no secret,” I said.  “I am to wish you happiness, am I not?”

She looked up at me in quick surprise.

“Did Blenavon tell you—­”

“That you had promised to marry Colonel Mostyn Ray.  Yes.”

“That is very strange,” she said thoughtfully.  “Blenavon is not as a rule needlessly communicative, and at present it is almost a secret.”

“Nevertheless,” I said, turning slowly towards her, “I presume that it is true.”

“It is perfectly true,” she answered.

There was silence between us for several minutes.  One of the footmen came softly in to see whether we required a marker, and finding us talking, withdrew.  I was determined that the onus of further speech should remain with her.

“You are surprised?” she asked at last.

“Very.”

“And why?”

“I scarcely know,” I answered, “except that I have never associated the thought of marriage with Colonel Ray, and he is very much older than you.”

“Yes, he is a great deal older,” she answered.  “I think that his history has been rather a sad one.  He was in love for many years with a woman who married—­some one else.  I have always felt sorry for him ever since I was a little girl.”