'Work and excitement,' was the quiet answer. 'I think it more than likely she will break down.'
'It's a confounded pity. Why, she has grown old all at once. She's losing her good looks. Did you notice that her eyes were a little bloodshot?'
'Yes, I noticed it. I didn't like her look at all.'
Hugh, as his custom was, paced the floor. Nowadays he could not keep still, and he had contracted an odd habit of swinging his right arm, with fist clenched, as though relieving his muscles after some unusual constraint.
'By Jove, Sibyl, when I compare her with you!—I feel sorry for Rolfe; can't help it. Why didn't you stop this silly business before it went so far?'
'That's a characteristic question, dear boy,' Sibyl replied merrily. 'There are more things in life—particularly woman's life—than your philosophy ever dreamt of. Alma has quite outgrown me, and I begin to suspect that she won't honour me with her acquaintance much longer.'
'Why?'
'For one thing, we belong to different worlds, don't you see; and the difference, in future, will be rather considerable.'
'Well, I'm sorry. Rolfe isn't half the man he was. Why on earth didn't he stop it? He hates it, anyone can see. Why, if I were in his place——'
Sibyl interrupted with her mellow laughter.