The Colonel, whose
courteous instincts would not suffer him to neglect a guest, had been out
shooting with his son-in-law all day long. Mona heard them come tramping
up the drive and enter the house, as she sat above in the dark. She
listened without moving, and knew that one of her sisters was giving
them tea in the hall.
Two hours passed, but Nan did not return. Mona rose at last to dress for
dinner. Her face shone pale as she lighted her lamp, but her eyes were
steadfast; they held no anxiety.
Descending the stairs at length she found Piet waiting below before the
fire. He looked round as she came down, looked up the stairs beyond her,
and gravely rose to give her his chair.
Mona was generally regarded as hostess in her father's house, though she
was not his eldest daughter. She possessed a calmness of demeanour that
was conspicuously lacking in all the rest.
She sat down quietly, her hands folded about her knees. "Have you had
good sport?" she asked, her serene eyes raised to his.
There was a slight frown between Piet's brows. Hitherto he had always
regarded this girl as his friend. To-night, for the first time, she
puzzled him. There was something hostile about her something he felt
rather than saw, yet of which from the very moment of her coming, he was
keenly conscious.
He scarcely answered her query. Already his wits were at work.
Suddenly he asked her a blunt question.
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