The fury, the tempest of it! It was as though everything in the room had
been broken. And he, with his glorious, tragical youth felt that the end
of the world had come. This was the conclusion of life--no more cause for
living, no more friendship or comfort or help anywhere. Clare had said
those things to him. He stood, for ten minutes there, in the middle of the
room, without moving--his face white, his eyes full of pain.
Sarah came to tell him that the hansom was there. He moved into the hall
with the intention of sending it away; no party for him to-night--when, to
his amazement he saw Clare coming slowly down the stairs, her cloak on,
buttoning her gloves.
She passed him without a word and got into the hansom. He took his hat and
coat, gave the driver the address, and climbed in beside her.
Once as they drove he put out his hand, touched her dress and said--"Clare
dear--"
She made no reply, but sat looking, with her eyes large and black in her
little white face, steadfastly in front of her.
III
Lady Luncon was a rich, good-natured woman who had recently published a
novel and was anxious to hear it praised, therefore she gave a party.
Originally a manufacturer's daughter, she had conquered a penniless
baronet--spent twenty years in the besieging of certain drawing-rooms and
now, tired of more mundane worlds, fixed her attention upon the Arts.
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