'I am afraid the lady is ill,' said the servant.
It was very evident that she was ill.
'The carriage is here,' said Doll. 'Can you manage to walk to it?'
She rose unsteadily, and the maid wrapped her in her white cloak. It annoyed Doll that the maid evidently looked upon them as an interesting young married couple.
He gave Sibyl his arm, and she staggered against him. He hesitated, and then compressed his lips, put his arm round her, and, half carrying, half leading her, helped her to the carriage.
It was a white night with snow upon the ground. The band was playing one of Chevalier's songs. Out into the solemn night came the urgent appeal of ''Enery 'Awkins' to his Eliza not to die an old maid, accompanied by the dull, threshing sound of many feet.
As the carriage began to move, Sibyl seemed to revive, and a moan broke from her.
'Oh, Doll,' she said suddenly, turning towards him and catching his hand and wringing it. 'It isn't true, is it? It is only a horrible lie.'
'What isn't true?' he said fiercely, almost hating her for the pain she was causing him, not his hand.
'It isn't true what that man said in the next arch, that—that Mr. Loftus married me out of pity?' And she swayed herself to and fro.