As for Marcella, she said little or nothing. But Wharton, in the dark of the carriage, had a strange sense that her eye was often on him, that her mood marched with his, and that if he could have spoken her response would have been electric.
When he had helped her out of the carriage, and they stood in the vestibule—Mrs. Boyce having walked on into the hall—he said to her, his voice hoarse with fatigue:
"Did I do your bidding, did I rouse them?"
Marcella was seized with sudden shyness.
"You rated them enough."
"Well, did you disapprove?"
"Oh, no! it seems to be your way."
"My proof of friendship? Well, can there be a greater? Will you show me some to-morrow?"
"How can I?"
"Will you criticise?—tell me where you thought I was a fool to-night, or a hypocrite? Your mother would."