" The latter sentence was not quite audible, but
sufficiently so to send Mrs. Devereux' lorgnettes up to her nose. Sanchia
herself, receiving civilities as if born to them, impelled her to keep
them there. She had appeared silently and suddenly out of the blue. And
now she hovered, smiling, fair, and unconcerned, like a goddess out of a
chariot come to deal judgment, and listened charitably to Mr. Chevenix.
How odd! How more than odd! Mrs. Wilmot looked as if her eyes were full of
tears, but let nothing escape her. As for Ingram, he greeted the
apparition with a smile and a nod sideways. But Mrs. Devereux could have
sworn to a scare in the eye. "How are you, Sanchia?" he said, and then to
his guests, "Miss Percival will show you where you all are, if you'll--
Dinner's at half-past eight, I believe. At least, it always used to be;
but I've been away for a year, and they may have changed all that. Have
you, by the way?" he asked, with a sudden turn to Miss Percival.
She looked calmly at him. "No. It's still at half-past eight," she said.
He lit his cigarette.
"Will you show these ladies their rooms?" he required of her, adding as an
afterthought, "Mrs. Devereux, Mrs. Wilmot.
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