"That horrid work!" spoke Mrs. Bede. "You are a slave to it."
"Wait until my fortune's made," said Hamish.
"That will be when your book's out!"
"Oh yes, of course."
The answer was given banteringly. But a slight hectic came into his face, his voice unconsciously took a deeper tone. Heaven alone knew what that anticipated book already was to his spirit.
"When will it be finished?"
"It is finished."
"How glad you must be!" concluded Mrs. Bede.
The evening went on. Roland kept his place against the wall, looking as if everybody were his natural enemy. On the whole, Roland did not like soirées; there was no room for his elbows; and the company never seemed to be in their natural manners; rather on artificial stilts. Having come out to this one for the specific purpose of meeting Annabel, Roland could but regard the disappointment in the light of a personal wrong, and resent it accordingly.
In the midst of a grand, tremendous cavatina, loud enough to split the ceiling, while the room was preparing itself to applaud, and Roland was thinking it might have been more agreeable to ears if given out of doors, say on the quai at Durban, he happened to raise his head, and saw Gerald opposite. Their eyes met. Roland nodded, but Gerald gave no response. Gerald happened to be standing next to Hamish Channing.