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Dyce
allowed his companion to open a carriage-door for herself. That was
quite in accord with his principles, but perhaps he would for once
have neglected them had he been sure by which class Miss Bride would
travel. She entered the third.
"You wouldn't care to introduce me to Lady Ogram?" he said, standing
by the window, and looking straight into the girl's eyes.
"I will if you wish," she answered, meeting his look with hard
steadiness and a frown as of pain.
"Many thanks! Rivenoak, Hollingford, the address? Suppose I call in
a few days?"
"If you like."
The train moved. Dyce bared his head, and, as he turned away,
thought how contemptible was the practice.
Walking briskly against a cold wind, he busied his imagination about
Lady Ogram. The picture he made to himself of this wealthy and
original old lady was very fertile of suggestion; his sanguine
temper bore him to heights of brilliant possibility. Dyce Lashmar
had a genius for airy construction; much of his time was spent in
deducing imaginary results from some half presented opportunity.


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