“I think that I have outlived balls,” she said a little wearily; “and you—you do not care for them.”
“No,” he returned; “but you are younger than I am.”
“Judy and I saw a poor creature to-day when we were with Stargarde. She had been starved to death; it was horrible. If a few of these gowns here to-night were sold they would keep some needy people in food for a year. And the wines that are drunk—they do us no good, and often much harm.”
“Would it please you to hear me say that I shall never have wine offered in a mixed assembly again?”
“It would, Mr. Armour.”
“Then I say it; and now is that shadow to lift from your face?”
It did not, and Vivienne rose and said in some embarrassment: “Shall we not go to Mrs. Colonibel? I have not seen her for some time.”
“Tell me first why you are so ill at ease with me,” he said with some doggedness. “You know that I am anxious to atone for my past sins of neglect toward you, yet you give me no chance. You are restless, and I know your one thought is to get away from here.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Mr. Armour, it is useless for us to try to agree. We are like fire and steel. I resolve and resolve that with you, who admire meekness so much in a woman, that I will be a very Griselda; yet I cannot.”
“I seem to rouse all the opposition in you,” he said; “why is it?”