"Not in the least—why should I?" answers Lauraine. "And I always like Mrs. Woollffe. I should be sorry to offend her, and we have no excuse to offer."
"And you never tell 'white lies,'" smiles Lady Etwynde. "Isn't she wonderful, Cyril?"
"Lady Vavasour is indeed an example to most of her sex," answers the Colonel. "I thought they were all addicted to that harmless little practice. But I am glad you have decided upon going to Mrs. Woollffe's. I am delighted with her niece, although I have a remembrance of being 'questioned' within an inch of my life five minutes after my first introduction to them."
"Do you remember that evening?" asks Lady Etwynde softly.
"Do I not?" his eyes answer for him, as under cover of the dim light he touches her hand.
She looks up and meets his glance, and smiles softly back with perfect understanding.
Ah, no shadow of doubt or wrong will ever come between herself and him again. Lauraine notes that fond glance, that swift comprehension, and her heart grows sick and cold as she thinks of the emptiness of her own life. A woman never feels the want of love so much as when she sees another in possession of what she has lost.
If beauty, wit, and intelligence can make a supper party brilliant, Mrs. Bradshaw Woollffe should have had no reason to complain. None of the "celebrities" disappoint. "Dresden China" is a host in herself, Colonel Carlisle is delightful, Lady Etwynde radiant. The only silent members of the party are Keith Athelstone and Lauraine.
A strange constraint is upon them both. As from time to time their eyes meet, each notes with a heavy heart the change wrought in these few months. On Keith it is even more apparent. His face is as pale as if the hot young blood had been frozen in its currents, and no longer could warm and colour that passionless exterior. The half petulant, wayward manner which had been charming in its very youthfulness and caprice, was now grave and chill, and had lost all its brightness and vivacity.
"He is not happy," thinks Lauraine sadly, and she glances at the pretty little sparkling creature opposite, who is chattering and laughing as if she had not a care in the world, and had certainly escaped the contamination of her lover's gravity.