'No, thank you….'
Candle-shades!
She put her hands over her eyes and summoned all her pride. Probably the very butler and her maid knew perfectly well she had been waiting at home alone for Mr Reeve. She cared absolutely nothing what they thought; but she felt bitter, revengeful to him. It was cruel.
Why did she care so much? She remembered letters and scenes with other people—people whose sufferings about her she felt always inclined to laugh at. She couldn't believe in it. Love in books had always seemed to her, although intensely interesting, just a trifle absurd. She couldn't realise it till now.
Another ring. Perhaps it was he after all! …
The same position. The book, the bright blue eyes….
The door opened; Anne came in. It was striking seven o'clock.
CHAPTER XIX
Eugenia
Meanwhile Cecil had received a note from his uncle, asking him to go and see him. He decided he would do so on his way to see Hyacinth.