"What did he say? Does he think my husband ill?"
"I don't know. It's all nonsense."
Another voice broke in.
"A triumph, Lady May, a triumph indeed!"
She turned to find the Dean and Marchmont close behind her, and the Dean
holding out his hand as he spoke.
"Yes, yes," she said hurriedly and uncomfortably. "It was fine, wasn't
it?"
"It was magnificent," said Marchmont.
"Thanks, thanks." Her tone was still hurried, absent, ungracious. The two
looked at her in surprise. Where was the radiance of triumph that had lit
up her face as she signalled to them from the platform? They had expected
to find her full of the speech and had been prepared to give her joy by
the warmth and sincerity of their praise.
"What's the matter?" whispered Marchmont.
"Do you see that short man, the one with grey hair, trying to get near
Alexander It's the doctor--Dr. Tillman. He can't get near Alexander."
"What does he want?"
"I don't know. He thinks he ought to go home. He thinks--Ah, now he's
getting to him! Look! He's speaking to him now!"
They saw the doctor come up to Quisante and Quisante smile as he waited
for the visitor to introduce himself.
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