The love that had become a fixed part of his being, flooding him with its radiance, had been violently wrenched from his heart, and his only, all-absorbing, insatiable desire was to confront the man who was responsible for it.
Oh, for the frailty of human happiness!
Out near the steps of the east piazza a group of ladies and gentlemen, composed of Mr. and Mrs. Harris, Mr. Corway and Hazel were chatting merrily about the new waltz and incidentally they had referred to the prolonged absence of “My Lord” and John Thorpe from the ballroom. Mrs. Harris discovered them on the piazza approaching the steps and exclaimed, “Ah, here come the truants.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, John Thorpe descended the steps alone, Rutley remaining on the piazza.
“Mr. Harris,” said John Thorpe in a husky voice, “in the name of the society whom he contaminates, I demand that you eject that man from this place.”
This peremptory and extraordinary demand, coupled with its insinuation, stunned the hearers, who looked from one to the other in startled amazement.
The dead silence that followed was broken by Mr. Harris, who answered in a grave, dazed way, as thoughts of Thorpe’s sanity flitted through his brain, “But, Thorpe! I—what—I don’t think—my hearing is not exactly right of late. I did not understand—”
Without removing his steady gaze from Corway, Mr. Thorpe reiterated his words slowly and with stinging accentuation, “I demand that you eject that man from this place,” and he pointed his finger dramatically at Corway, while glints of merciless intent shot from his eyes.
The red flushed into Mr. Harris’s face as he realized the indignity his guests and himself were being subjected to.
“Thorpe—John—you are insulting all of us. Mr. Corway is my guest. What is the meaning of this affront to my hospitality?”