"Pray do not say such a horrible thing. I assure you it is not true. Indeed you wrong me. I do not want the miserable thing talked about----"
"Sir, are you referring to me? I am the only miserable thing here."
"You are incorrigible."
"You are mistaken, sir. I am as plastic as wax; but like wax, if the fingers that touch me are cold I become brittle."
"If you persist how are we to approach Miss Ashton?"
"Thus! Follow me!"
He threw back his head haughtily, and glancing with scorn from side to side, strode to the table over which bent the exquisite face and figure of Dora.
CHAPTER XV.
[A SUBSTITUTE FOR GOLD.]
The air of pleasant badinage which pervaded the room had no more effect on Oscar Leigh than on the gasalier. No one spoke to him, for no one knew him. Except what passed between Leigh and Hanbury all words were intended for any ears who might hear. Intensities of individuality were laid aside at the threshold. Those whose individuality pursued and tyrannized over them like a Frankenstein remained away. They did not put it to themselves in this way. They told themselves they found the place too mixed or too light or too frivolous or too distracting.