Lady Dashwood closed the door softly behind her. "He's perplexed," she said to herself. "He is perplexed--not merely because we are at 'the beginning of things,' but because--I have been a fool and----" She did not finish the sentence. She went up early to her room and dressed for dinner. It was impossible to be certain when May would come, so it would be better to get dressed and have the time clear. May's arrival was serious business--so serious that Lady Dashwood shuddered at the mere thought that it was by a mere stroke of extraordinary luck that she could come and would come! If May came by the six train she would arrive before seven. But seven o'clock struck and May had not arrived. She might arrive about eight o'clock. Lady Dashwood, who was already dressed, gave orders that dinner was to be put off for twenty minutes, and then she telephoned this news to Mr. Boreham and sent in a message to the Warden. But she quite forgot to tell Gwen that dinner was to be later. Gwen had gone upstairs early to dress for dinner, for she was one of those individuals who take a long time to do the simplest thing. This omission on the part of Lady Dashwood, trifling as it seemed, had far-reaching consequences--consequences that were not foreseen by her. She sat in the drawing-room actively occupied in imagining obstacles that might prevent May Dashwood from keeping the promise in her telegram: railway accidents, taxi accidents, the unexpected sudden deaths of relatives. As she sat absorbed in these wholly unnecessary and exhausting speculations, the door opened and she heard Robinson's quavering voice make the delicious announcement, "Mrs. Dashwood!" CHAPTER II MORAL SUPPORT May Dashwood's features were not faultless. For instance, her determined little nose was rather short and just a trifle retroussé and her eyebrows sometimes looked a little surprised. Her great charm lay not in her clear complexion and her bright brown hair, admirable as they were, but in her full expressive grey eyes, and when she smiled, it was not the toothy smile of professional gaiety, but a subtle, archly animated and sympathetic smile; so that both men and women who were once smiled at by her, immediately felt the necessity of being smiled at again! May was still dressed in mourning, very plainly, and she wore no furs. She came into the room and looked round her. "May!" exclaimed Lady Dashwood. "I thought you were ill, Aunt Lena!" said May amazed at the sight of Lady Dashwood, dressed for dinner and apparently in robust health. "I _am_ ill," exclaimed Lady Dashwood, and she tapped her forehead. "I'm ill here," and she advanced to meet her niece with open arms. "Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Dashwood, hastening up to her aunt. "I'm still partially sane, May--but--if you hadn't come!" said Lady Dashwood, kissing her niece on both cheeks. She did not finish her sentence. Mrs. Dashwood put both hands on her aunt's shoulders and examined her face carefully.