Harry, who with all his usage du monde was peculiarly subject to sudden obscure impulses as of the primitive man, became pale with a strange and painful sensation as he looked at Valentia.
She was flirting with Vaughan, or so every one present must be thinking. Of course it was only from pique, and he would soon put a stop to it.
And Vaughan, with his ironical glance and quiet manner, why did he look into her eyes all the time?
What was he saying?
Harry asked them all to come back to the studio for some music, but even as he made the arrangement to drive Valentia, he remembered that, à la fin des fins, he would have to leave her at her husband's house. Would Romer be sitting up? What an ass he was! What rot the whole dinner was! It was all through Van Buren. Van Buren was a fool. Confound Romer!
Harry was jealous.