There was another gust of laughter from the group about the bed.
Pangbutt looked round uneasily.
The sphinx smile came to Caroline’s lips; she saw his uneasiness.
“Paul,” she said—“there are too many ghosts in your house.”
“Ghosts?” he asked moodily. He nodded after awhile:
“Perhaps there are ghosts,” he said bitterly.
She leaned forward:
“Yes, Paul—when the twilight comes, and the day’s work is set aside, all the colours turn to drab—and the ghosts of dead friendships and dead follies come out and walk.”
He uttered a low bitter laugh:
“And yet there are they that are jealous because I am famous.”