Mr. Pettifer was startled but he held his tongue.

“The invitation came this morning after you had left for London,” she added.

“And you accepted it at once?”

“Yes.”

Pettifer was certain that she had before she opened her mouth to answer him.

“I shall dine at Little Beeding on Friday,” he said, “because Harold always gives me an admirable glass of vintage port”; and with that he dismissed the subject.  Mrs. Pettifer was content to let it smoulder in his mind.  She was not quite sure that he was as disturbed as she wished him to be, but that he was proud of Dick she knew, and if by any chance uneasiness grew strong in him, why, sooner or later he would let fall some little sentence; and that little sentence would probably be useful.

CHAPTER XVI

CONSEQUENCES

The dinner-party at Little Beeding was a small affair.  There were but ten altogether who sat down at Mr. Hazlewood’s dinner-table and with the exception of the Pettifers all, owing to Dick Hazlewood’s insistence, were declared partisans of Stella Ballantyne.  None the less Stella came to it with hesitation.  It was the first time that she had dined abroad since she had left India, now the best part of eighteen months ago, and she went forth to it as to an ordeal.  For though friends of hers would be present to enhearten her she was to meet the Pettifers.  The redoubtable Aunt Margaret had spoilt her sleep for a week.  It was for the Pettifers she dressed, careful to choose neither white nor black, lest they should find something symbolic in the colour of her gown and make of it an offence.  She put on a frock of pale blue satin trimmed with some white lace which had belonged to her mother, and she wore not so much as a thin gold chain about her neck.  But she did not need jewels that night.  The months of quiet had restored her to her beauty, the excitement of this evening had given life and colour to her face, the queer little droop at the corners of her lips which had betrayed so much misery and bitterness of spirit had vanished altogether.  Yet when she was quite dressed and her mirror bade her take courage she sat down and wrote a note of apology pleading a sudden indisposition.  But she did not send it.  Even in the writing her cowardice came home to her and she tore it up before she had signed her name.  The wheels of the cab which was to take her to the big house rattled down the lane under her windows, and slipping her cloak over her shoulders she ran downstairs.

The party began with a little constraint.  Mr. Hazlewood received his guests in his drawing-room and it had the chill and the ceremony of a room which is seldom used.  But the constraint wore off at the table.  Most of those present were striving to set Stella Ballantyne at her ease, and she was at a comfortable distance from Mrs. Pettifer, with Mr. Hazlewood at her side.  She was conscious that she was kept under observation and from time to time the knowledge made her uncomfortable.