Orr tapped at his foot with his stick. "I may be in error," he said, "but I think I have seen him before."
"Then it must have been in London. He has been here only a short time. He tells me he used to be with Catty."
Catty was a relative of Annandale, a New York girl who had married the Duke of Kincardine.
"Possibly," said Orr. "Well," he added, reverting to the episode that had brought him there, "I am sorry for all this. I know you are. I will write to Sylvia and tell her so."
"Please do."
Annandale stood up and accompanied him to the door. When he turned life seemed blank as the blanks of the night.
CHAPTER VII
SWEET-AND-TWENTY
WHAT Sylvia replied to Orr's communication, whether indeed she replied at all, Annandale was not informed. He himself wrote to her. The letter was long; it was also abject. But he got no answer. He wrote again. The result was the same.
Then both at her and at himself he rebelled. He had supped on humiliations. He had no appetite for more. With some bravery, yet without bravado, he tore a leaf from his life and on it wrote Finis. The epitaph was figurative, but he thought it final. He thought that he could dictate to Fate. It is a mistake that many make.