Ford slightly in
advance, searching with his eyes for Mrs Ashton, found her seated alone
in the lounge, evidently waiting for him. At the first glance she was
hardly to be recognized. Her low-cut dinner gown of black satin that
clung to her like a wet bath robe was the last word of the new fashion;
and since Ford had seen her her blond hair had been arranged by an
artist. Her appearance was smart, elegant, daring. She was easily the
prettiest and most striking-looking woman in the room, and for an
instant Ford stood gazing at her, trying to find in the self-possessed
young woman the deserted wife of the steamer. She did not see Ford Her
eyes were following the progress down the hall of a woman, and her
profile was toward him.
The thought of the happiness he was about to bring to two young people
gave Ford the sense of a genuine triumph, and when he turned to Ashton
to point out his wife to him he was thrilling with pride and
satisfaction. His triumph received a bewildering shock. Already Ashton
had discovered the presence of Mrs. Ashton. He was standing transfixed,
lost to his surroundings, devouring her with his eyes.
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