Sir John Dering by Jeffery Farnol

For a moment, it seemed, none spoke or moved; all faces turned towards the slender, elegant figure on the threshold, where stood Sir John, his most exquisite self. Thus he entered amid a strange hush, a silence broken only by the tap of his high-heeled shoes; and, aware of the many staring eyes, saw only those of her who stood drawn to her noble height, in all the dignity of laces and brocade; and, very conscious of the latent hostility all about him, advanced down the long room with a leisured ease, apparently totally unconscious of all save my lady and his serene and placid self.

Haughty and unbending she stood to meet him, with no smile of greeting, no hand to welcome him. Thus his bow was of the deepest and his voice of the gentlest when he spoke.