But now, poor thing, the fire had reached her, and her spirit quailed immediately. Perhaps it was only natural that as her courage failed something else should take its place; an implacable burning resentment against her two betrayers, her lover and her friend. She rocked herself to and fro. Lover and friend. "Oh, never, never trust in man's love or woman's friendship henceforth forever!" So learned Lady Newhaven the lesson of suffering.
"Lover and friend hast Thou put far from me," she sobbed, "and mine acquaintance out of my sight."
A ring at the door-bell proved that the latter part of the text, at any rate, was not true in her case.
A footman entered.
"Not at home. Not at home," she said, impatiently.
"I said not at home, but the gentleman said I was to take up his card," said the man, presenting a card.
When Captain Pratt tipped, he tipped heavily.
Lady Newhaven read it.
"No. Yes. I will see him," she said. It flashed across her mind that she must be civil to him, and that her eyes were not red. She had not shed tears.
The man picked the newspaper from the floor, put it on a side table, and withdrew.