Anne took her departure.
As Cecil came in, looking, Hyacinth thought, particularly and irritatingly handsome, she felt a fresh attack of acute jealousy. And yet, in spite of her anger, her first sensation was a sort of relenting—a wish to let him off, not to entrap him into deceiving her by pretending not to know, not to act a part, but to throw herself into his arms, violently abusing Eugenia, forgiving him, and imploring him vaguely to take her away.
She did not, however, give way to this wild impulse, but behaved precisely as usual; and he, also, showed no difference. He told her about the pictures, and said she must come and see them with him, but he said nothing whatever of having seen Lady Selsey. He was deceiving her, then! How heartless, treacherous, faithless—and horribly handsome and attractive he was! She was wondering how much longer she could keep her anger to herself, when by the last post she received a note. It was from the Selseys, asking her and Cecil to dine with them on an evening near at hand.
Her hand trembled as she passed the letter to Cecil.
'Am I to refuse?' she asked.
He answered carelessly—
'Oh, no! I suppose we may as well accept.'
The words 'Have you seen her yet?' were on her lips, but she dared not say them. She was afraid he would tell her the truth.
'Have you any objection?' he asked.
She didn't answer, but walked to the door and then turned round and said—