As he spoke the hideous freedom of his empty life seemed to gather itself together, and to flow stealthily upon him like a filthy wave bearing refuse upon its surface.
“I’m a free agent,” he added, looking hard at Lady Ingleton. “I have no ties.”
He shook her hand and went away.
That evening she said to her husband:
“I have felt sorry for myself occasionally, and for other people in my Christian moments, but I have never in the past felt so sorry for any one as I feel now for Mr. Leith.”
“Because of the tragedy which has marred his life?”
“It isn’t only that. He’s on the edge of so much.”
“You don’t mean——?”
Sir Carey paused.
“No, no,” Lady Ingleton said, almost impatiently. “Life hasn’t done with that man yet. I could almost find it in my heart to wish it had. Shall we take him to Brusa on the yacht? That would advertise our acquaintance with him to all the gossips on the Bosporus. I promised Cynthia I would throw my mantle over him.”