That night Mrs. Herbert went to a dance. The waltzes all seemed to be played to the measure of a train—every minute took him further away—in intervals, when she was not talking, she composed letters which she never sent, and she hated herself for having let him go. Where was her power? Had she lost it?
She tried to use it on Sir Ralph, and the result more than justified her expectations.
“You deserve a good scolding,” said Mr. George, when he asked for a dance and she refused to give it to him. “You are eating your cake now. I hope it is bitter. Jack has gone.”
Sir Ralph went home with her, but he did not go in, as she shook hands by the lift and thanked him in an absent-minded, perfunctory way. Then she went to her room and wept.
She was a fool. It was all too horrible. The next morning life was not worth living, it was black and dreary. Excitement and Sir Ralph were all she had left. She was jealous of the unknown, of Jack’s gladstone bag, and of his boots, of everything; and then she remembered Launa, and she was jealous of her. It was quite delightful to find a person to hurt, someone tangible at whom to throw speeches. Mrs. Herbert resolved to rise early, and go to see Launa.
Meanwhile Captain Carden’s remarks and suggestions had an effect. Mr. Wainbridge noticed it—men looked coldly or with a certain amount of curiosity at him—some women turned the other way, others were interested. He did not realise the meaning of this, until Mr. George brought it before him. Mr. George was by no means one of the crowd. He knew Launa well; it was doubtful whether she had refused him or not. He adored Sylvia now. He frequented Launa’s abode, scolded her when she appeared weary, and forbade her to sit up late. By this time people said that Miss Archer and Mr. Wainbridge had spent a week in Paris together, as Mr. and Mrs. Claude.
Mr. Wainbridge heard this tale in silence, and at the end he expressed himself as anxious to horsewhip the whole town. Mr. George reminded him that the town is large, and chiefly composed of women.
“Damn them,” said Mr. Wainbridge, briefly but expressively.
“That relieves your feelings,” said Mr. George, “and is of no other avail. You must be accepted or refused by Launa sooner than you meant to be.”