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Updated: May 11, 2025
She was one of those many women in London who seek to hang on to the skirts of polite society by reason of a distant connexion being a countess a fact of which she never failed to remind the stranger before half-an-hour's acquaintance. She found it always a pleasant manner in which to open a conversation at dinner, dance, or soirée: "Oh! do you happen to know my cousin, Lady Nassington?"
He, on his part, turned upon his heel with a muttered remark and set out again to walk towards Nassington Station, whence, after nearly an hour's wait in the village inn, he took train to Peterborough. The girl had once again defied him. Was it really true what Flockart had told her? Did Walter actually wish to see her again?
She never sufficiently realised it as bad form, and therefore in her own circle was known among the women, who jeered at her behind her back, as "The Cousin of Lady Nassington." She was daintily dressed, and evidently just come in from visiting, for she still had her hat on when she entered. "Ah!" she cried, with her usual buoyant air. "You truant! We've all been wondering what had become of you.
For nearly two miles she walked onward, until, close by the junction of the road which comes down the hill from Nassington, the man who had been following hastened up and overtook her. She heard herself addressed by name, and, turning quickly, found herself face to face with James Flockart. The new-comer stood before Gabrielle, hat in hand, smiling pleasantly and uttering a greeting of surprise.
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