But why should she have called herself a fool?
This was the question which had bewildered him before, and when it recurred to him now, it produced the same effect upon him.
The more he tried to recall her words the more satisfied he became that there was a good deal in the attitude of Mrs. Abington that he had not yet mastered.
He turned and looked up the room to where she was sitting. She was not looking in his direction. Her eyes were fixed upon the face of Tom Linley, and she was listening with the most earnest attention to what Tom was saying. She really seemed to be completely absorbed in Tom.
For a few minutes Dick felt jealous of the other youth. Why should this lovely creature, who confessed that she had come from London solely to say a word of comfort in his (Dick’s) ear, become in a moment so deeply absorbed in Tom Linley, who had no aspiration in the world except to improve himself as a performer on the violin?
In spite of that sudden twinge—it could scarcely be called a pang—of jealousy which he felt while watching Mrs. Abington giving all her attention to Tom Linley, his bewilderment did not disperse. But to do him justice, he had already ceased to think of her as a kind woman, and this was one step—though he did not know it—toward his discovery of the truth.
He did not get a chance to give further consideration to the question of the lady’s motives at that time, for his friend Halhed waylaid him with a lugubrious face and a smile of infinite sickliness.
“You observe, Dick?” he said, nodding significantly.
“I observe much—a good deal more than I can understand,” said Dick. “But what do you observe—that I am observing?”
“What? Oh, you must notice it—everybody must notice it. I dare swear that remarks are being made about it in every part of the Rooms,” said Halhed.