He felt no wish to speak
as, still guided by Blessington, he passed down the shadowy
paths that in the half-light had the warmth and mystery of a
Southern garden. Here and there from the darkness came the
whispering of a voice or the sound of a laugh, bringing with
them the necessary touch of life. Otherwise the place was still.
Absorbed by the air of solitude, contrasting so remarkably
with the noise and crowded glitter left behind in the
reception-rooms, he had moved half-way down the long, green
aisle before the business in hand came back to him with a
sudden sense of annoyance. It seemed so paltry to mar the
quiet of the place with the absurdity of a side-show. He
turned to Blessington with a touch of abruptness.
"What am I expected to do?" he asked.
Blessington looked up, surprised. "Why, I thought, sir--" he
began. Then he instantly altered his tone: "Oh, just enter
into the spirit of the thing. Lady Astrupp won't put much
strain on your credulity, but she'll make a big call on your
solemnity.
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