People were parting after supper; or they were lingering in the
restaurant beyond. Nobody paid the slightest attention to the newcomers,
and Annesley settled down unobtrusively in a corner, while her companion
went to scribble a line to the Countess de Santiago.
When he had finished, and sent up the letter, he did not return, and
again the girl had a few moments of suspense, thinking of the danger
which might not, after all, be over. Just as she had begun to be anxious,
however, she saw him coming with a wonderful woman.
Annesley could have laughed, remembering how he had said the Countess
would "mother" her. Any one less motherly than this Juno-like beauty in
flame-coloured chiffon over gold tissue it would be hard to imagine.
The Spanish South American Countess was of a camelia paleness, and had
almond-shaped dark eyes with brooding lashes under slender brows that
met. In contrast, her hair was of a flame colour vivid as her draperies,
and her lips were red.
At first glance Annesley thought that the dazzling creature could not be
more than thirty; but when the vision had come near enough to offer her
hand, without waiting for an introduction, a hardness about the handsome
face, a few lines about the eyes and mouth, and a fullness of the chin
showed that she was older--forty, perhaps.
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