No contrition, but a malicious joy filled his mind as he beheld the two standing together in lover-like attitude—Lorin with his arm round Laline's waist, and she with her head on his shoulder. The sight of their pale, agitated faces amused him hugely. He had already taken the edge off any finer sensations he might possess by more than one brandy-and-soda, and for the space of several seconds he stood watching, with a kind of ogre-like geniality, the endearments of the pair whom he was about to separate forever.
From the inner room where he stood their figures were clearly revealed against the window; but they, for their part, had no suspicion of his presence until Laline broke again away from Lorin.
"Ah, what is the use of talking?" she cried. "I am another man's wife; no words can alter that, even if he has forgotten me!"
"But he has not forgotten you, Laline!"
Then they both turned and faced him, knowing that the worst had happened and Wallace had come to claim his own; and, as Lorin gazed from his cousin's face to that of the woman he loved, a dumb rage seized him.
He understood Wallace better than any man living, and, although he invariably took his part and bore with him as no one else had ever done, in his heart he could not refrain from loathing the man's vices even while he tried to make allowances for him to others. Grief had rendered Laline's appearance even more fragile and spiritual than it was normally; the despair in her soft eyes was like the voiceless agony of a dying animal. Lorin felt that his self-control would give way if he looked at her, or if his eyes sought that companion-picture of the man, brutalised and degraded by drink and dissipation, whom the law had made her master. Turning abruptly away, he walked to the window and stood there a few seconds with his back to the other occupants of the room.
"I am afraid," Wallace observed sardonically, after a short pause, "that neither of you are particularly glad to see me. I am really sorry to disturb your charming little matrimonial plans; but, as I happen to be the lady's husband——"
"Understand," exclaimed Lorin, turning round upon him fiercely—"I will have no cowardly sneers at the expense of this lady! If she has indeed the misfortune to be your wife, I pity her with all my heart and soul!"
"Pity is akin to love, they say."
"And I love her and honour her and reverence her, and would give my life to serve her! Lina, you know that, do you not?"