He saw that she was tense. She meant to go, she meant to go, she meant to go. To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. “Ann Veronica has never looked quite so well, I think,” said Capes, clinging, because of a preconceived plan, to the suppressed topic. His sister followed. Yet she held her tongue. There was no one to be seen. He spent the remainder of the afternoon looking for a friend whom he found at last in the billiard room of one of the smaller clubs to which he belonged. The terror faded from her eyes. A moment before he had been a strong man, she had been in his power, a poor helpless thing. For a time Spurlock did not move. It resembled Mardi Gras, and she thought disdainfully of New Orleans.
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