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. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. He seemed to do ten things before she could think to do one, to leap upon her and take possession. But we were both pledged to secrecy, and I couldn’t reveal my part for fear that I would lose my place. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. She tried to think what she should do in this eventuality or that. “By Jove!” he said, “there is something direct about you.
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