It had never occurred to him to speculate upon the possible experiences and circumstances which must have made up the ten years of their separation.
Miss Hildreth had passed the greater part of that time abroad, and his news of her had not only been meagre but nil, for after the first few weeks of her absence, during which her name had been on every one's lips, coupled with her broken engagement, and her inherited fortune, it was rarely mentioned, and never in Philip's presence.
The most perfectly controlled human heart cannot so entirely root up envy and malice as not to cavil somewhat at the perversity of Providence, in showering benefits with both hands upon a fellow mortal, who certainly cannot so thoroughly deserve them as oneself. However, if destiny will be so blindly prejudiced, why let us become as indifferent to it as possible, and in perfecting ourselves in this fine-art forget both the name and existence of our once bosom friend.
This was society's philosophy regarding Patricia Hildreth, and thus for ten long years her place had been vacant in the circles of the great world, and she herself forgotten as completely as the snows of last year. "Mais où sont les neiges d'antan?" may be asked of more things than Musset dreamed of, when he wrote his sad and bitter reproach.
Miss James had met Philip late in the afternoon of George Newbold's festa, as he was strolling idly about the garden-paths, the inevitable cigarette between his lips, and his hands, as was his fashion, clasped loosely behind him. He caught sight of the small dark figure coming towards him down the terrace steps, and though at first impatient of the interruption, something in the thin outline of face and form, the lassitude of step and bearing, touched a chord of compassion in his kind heart.
He had not indeed been altogether insensible to the nature of Miss James's feeling towards him; no man is quite so dull and hard as not to be touched by the unasked devotion of a woman; it is wonderful when that devotion is directed to one's self how unselfish and pure, though hopeless, it appears! Philip's heart might be in the position of being captured in the rebound, but Miss James was not the one to do it; nevertheless her attraction to him, to call it by no warmer name, was harmless, if ineffectual, and not unpleasant.
Thus argued Mr. Tremain, though in justice to him let it be said the argument was not carried on in words, scarcely in sensations; it was negative rather than positive. He met her therefore with that deference and attention which made his slightest service a distinction, lifting his hat and throwing aside his half-smoked cigarette as he did so. Miss James looked at him steadily for a moment, watching him as he tossed away the end of burning paper.
"Oh, I am sorry you should do that," she said, in her rather hard voice. "I don't in the least object to cigarettes; in fact, I like them."
But Philip only smiled and shook his head.
"Oh, I've had quite enough of it, Miss James, I assure you. I was only smoking as a distraction and to make the time go."