She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. “By-the-bye, Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “do you know that I am a very great admirer of your sister’s? I wonder if she has ever spoken to you of me. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. Fortescue, with a bow. He was not there. She felt as if she had struck them unawares. Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. I love the soles of your feet. ‘It will suit me very well that you go away, because you are a person without sense and I do not wish to talk to you.
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