"We were both at Castle Holkham last autumn."
Duncombe murmured something conventional as he bowed over her fingers.
His whole attention was riveted upon the tall, pale girl in the further
corner of the omnibus. Her acknowledgment of his introduction had been
of the slightest, and her features were obscured by a white veil. She
looked away from him at once and continued a whispered conversation with
the white-haired gentleman at her side. Duncombe could think of no
excuse for addressing her.
"I shall have the pleasure of meeting you all again to-morrow," he said,
closing the door after Lord Runton. "I won't keep you now. I know what
the journey is down from town. Good night, Runton!"
"Good night, George. Ten o'clock sharp!"
The carriage rolled off, and Duncombe returned to his own domain. Andrew
was waiting for him impatiently by the gate.
"Well!" he exclaimed eagerly, "you have seen her. Well?"
The man was trembling with excitement. There were drops of perspiration
upon his forehead. His voice sounded unnatural.
"I saw a young lady in the carriage," Duncombe answered, "or rather I
did not see her, for she wore a veil, and she scarcely looked at me.
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