' 'And they will never return
to England, eh?' 'Who can tell? Did you see how she looked at Montbarry,
when she had to lift her veil at the beginning of the service?
In his place, I should have bolted. Did you see her, Doctor?'
By this time, Doctor Wybrow had remembered his patients, and had heard
enough of the club gossip. He followed the example of Baron Rivar,
and walked off.
'One step more, you see, on the way to the end,' he repeated to himself,
on his way home. 'What end?'
CHAPTER IV
On the day of the marriage Agnes Lockwood sat alone in the little
drawing-room of her London lodgings, burning the letters which had
been written to her by Montbarry in the bygone time.
The Countess's maliciously smart description of her,
addressed to Doctor Wybrow, had not even hinted at the charm
that most distinguished Agnes--the artless expression of goodness
and purity which instantly attracted everyone who approached her.
She looked by many years younger than she really was. With her fair
complexion and her shy manner, it seemed only natural to speak of her
as 'a girl,' although she was now really advancing towards thirty
years of age.
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