love to Grace. Didn’t you see him last night at the piano, when”
Delroy, who had been listening open-mouthed, burst into a sudden roar of laughter. Drysdale stopped, looked at him, then turned and left the room.
Tremaine seemed to enjoy his walk; at least, he did not return to the house until nearly the hour for luncheon. At that meal, the women joined them, and a drive was planned for the afternoon, which ended at the vesper service at the little chapel at Babylon. For some reason, the drive had not been a success; a certain constraint seemed to have fallen upon the party, a feeling of unrest, of uneasiness, which sent them severally to their rooms as soon as they reached the house.
Drysdale did not proceed to dress immediately. Instead, he sat moodily down and stared out into the darkness. He could see the flare of light which streamed from his neighbour’s windows—what was there about him that repelled while it attracted? What had he meant by that glance of disdain? Drysdale flushed hotly at thought of it. It had been so quick, so elusive, that at the instant he had not caught its full mining, its almost insolent triumph. Triumph? And was there cause for that? Did that explain Grace’s indifference during the drive? Was that why she sat beside him silent, distraught? Was she thinking of Tremaine? Or was she waiting for him before the fire…
He sprang to his feet, switched on the lights, and began hastily to dress.
