We lose with our youth the blushes, the hesitations, the distressing outward marks of embarrassment; but, perhaps, with most of us, the shyness, as it recedes from the surface, only sinks deeper into the soul.
As the door closed on Constance, Lord Watergate turned to Gertrude.
"Miss Lorimer," he said, "I am afraid your powers of endurance have to be further tried."
"What is it?" she said, while a listless incredulity that anything could matter to her now stole over her, dispersing the momentary cloud of self-consciousness.
Lord Watergate leaned forward, regarding her earnestly.
"There has been news," he said, slowly, "of poor young Jermyn."
Gertrude started.
"You mean," she said, "that they have found him—that there is no doubt."
"On the contrary; there is every doubt."
She looked at him bewildered.