This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. He had been back for two weeks during some pleasant weather in July. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. Chapter XVII THE CHANGE IN “ALCIDE” “By-the-bye,” his neighbour asked him languidly, “who is our hostess?” “Usually known, I believe, as Lady Ferringhall,” Ennison answered, “unless I have mixed up my engagement list and come to the wrong house. A fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world. Upon the pavement near the court lay the porter, who had been prostrated by a blow from the butt-end of a pistol.
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