Launa drove home alone. Mr. Wainbridge to his regret had an engagement. He said good-bye to her with sorrow, while she was indifferent. There was something in the spirit theory after all.
Mrs. Phillips and Mr. Herbert were still sitting at Victoria Mansions. She had changed her dress for a tea-gown and invited him to dinner. The evening was hot. Launa dressed in white and went to the music-room. Conversation did not appeal to her. She began to play, to work hard at an impossible sonata. The hard work was taking away her weariness, the feeling of misery and longing when the door was opened and Captain Carden came in.
“I did not let your maid announce me. I wanted to surprise you, Launa,” he said, advancing with an air of expectation. “She said you were not at home, but I heard the piano, and I knew you would see me.”
He held out his hand.
“I will finish this page,” she said, not taking the hand thus affably extended, and playing on.
Captain Carden seated himself near and stared at her. She could feel his eyes taking her in, all over, gloating over her, but she finished and sat on the music-stool, turning herself round until she faced him.
“Your mother was here to lunch.”
“Yes, Launa, she told me so.”
“Did you want to see me particularly?” she asked. “I suppose you did, because I said ‘not at home.’ I am very tired and in a musical mood.”
He smiled languidly and leaned back.