poor
Mrs. Dawson, who was looking fatter than ever in a very tight-fitting,
plum-coloured satin, and hotter than ever, despite the incessant waving
of her fan.

The long, splendid drawing-room was full of very gaily-dressed ladies,
much bejewelled, and many men whose looks did not prepossess me. When I
had sat down, under cover of my grandmother, in a chair a little retired
behind hers, I looked about me with some dread, and I was glad to
recognize the friendly face of Sir Arthur Ardaragh, who came up to us
with a cordial greeting. He did not look at all at home among the
Dawsons' friends, and I wondered how Lady Ardaragh had persuaded him to
come.

For a moment I did not see Lady Ardaragh anywhere, but presently her
uplifted voice told me where she was, and looking down I caught a
glimpse of her pretty shoulders showing rosily out of a pale green
frock. She was talking to some one; I could not see who it was for the
moment.

I had not yet seen Richard Dawson; and as my eye went from one to the
other of the gentlemen without seeing him, I began to be almost hopeful
that he was not there.

Sir Arthur Ardaragh was talking to my grandmother and to Mrs. Dawson,
who plainly was too much absorbed by the anxieties of the occasion to
hear much of what he was saying. She kept looking with an air of
trepidation at her husband who was being effusively polite to my
grandfather.

There were only ourselves and the Ardaraghs present of the
county-people. The other guests were staying at Damerstown or had come
from a distance; they were very fashionable, but I did not like the very
low dresses and the loud talk of the ladies, nor the tired,
cynical-looking men. Every one of the men, old and young, wore the same
expression. I have seen its like since at a foreign Casino, where I
watched the baccarat.

The groups broke up as dinner was announced. Mr. Dawson gave his arm to
my grandmother. I waited, wondering who might fall to my lot. Then from
the group which had been about Lady Ardaragh's chair came--Richard
Dawson. He had an air as though he came but half willingly.

Mrs. Dawson, who was going in with my grandfather, turned to me in a
great flurry.

"My son will have the honour to take you in, Miss Devereux," she said.
The words sounded as though they had been learnt off by heart.

Then Richard Dawson looked at me; and I saw the stupefaction in his
eyes. I looked back at him, a direct glance of hatred, as I put my
finger