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The scarlet flame on Lady Edna's face ebbed to a deadly whiteness. It seemed as if some one had struck her an unexpected blow. All her pride seemed to have left her for the moment. She stood there looking helplessly through the blue wreaths of cigarette smoke at the gaudy butterflies collected round the table. But, be that as it might, they were behaving decorously enough now. One or two of them had risen, and with murmured regrets were making their way towards the door. It seemed as if Lord Shorland had not yet grasped the full meaning of Saltburn's words. And, apparently, Lady Edna had forgotten it in the face of that tremendous statement of her brother's.
"This is an ill time to jest," she said.