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Updated: June 22, 2025
It was probable that Millicent Chyne was in the rooms; and she never doubted that she would know her face. "And I suppose you know that part of the world very well?" said Lady Cantourne, who had detected a change in her companion's manner. "Oh yes." "Have you ever heard of a place called Loango?" "Oh yes. I live there." "Indeed, how very interesting!
Her lips moved, but he heard no sound. She turned with a white, drawn face and sat down again. The paper was still in her hand. She consulted it again, reading in a whisper: "Millicent Chyne Millicent!" She turned the paper over and studied the back of it almost as if she was trying to find what there was behind that name. Through the trees there rose and fell the music of the distant surf.
And when one walks through a maze of unrealities nothing seems to come amiss or to cause surprise. He detailed the very words they had used, and to Millicent Chyne it did not sound like a real quarrel such as might affect two lives to their very end. It was not important. It did not come into her life; for at that moment she did not know what her life was.
Please encourage me. I am sure I have tried to learn." But he remained persistently grave. She did not like that gravity; she had met it before in the course of her experiments. One of the grievances harboured by Miss Millicent Chyne against the opposite sex was that they could not settle down into a harmless, honest flirtation.
Without looking towards her, Jack Meredith made a few steps towards the door quietly, self-composedly, with that perfect savoir-faire of the social expert that made him different from other men. Millicent Chyne felt a sudden plebeian desire to scream. It was all so heartlessly well-bred. He turned on his heel with a little half-cynical bow. "I leave my name with you," he said.
"Yes; she died nearly twenty-five years ago in Africa." "Africa whereabouts in Africa?" Then suddenly Jocelyn remembered where she had heard Lady Cantourne's name. It had only been mentioned to her once. And this was the aunt with whom Millicent Chyne lived. This cheery little lady knew Jack Meredith and Guy Oscard; and Millicent Chyne's daily life was part of her existence.
Man's prime is that period when the widest experience and the keenest perception meet. Millicent Chyne had lulled herself into a false security. She had taken it for granted that Jack would succeed, and would return rich and prosperous within a few months. Upon this pleasant certainty Sir John had cast a doubt, and she could hardly treat his words with contempt.
No word, however, was popularly whispered connecting her name with that of any other swain nearer home. Miss Chyne was too much of a woman of the world to allow that. But, in the meantime, she rather liked diamond aigrettes and the suppressed devotion of Guy Oscard.
By the train leaving Wiesbaden for Cologne, "over Mainz," as the guide-book hath it, Jack Meredith left for England, in which country he had not set foot for fifteen months. Guy Oscard was in Cashmere; the Simiacine was almost forgotten as a nine days' wonder except by those who live by the ills of mankind. Millicent Chyne had degenerated into a restless society "hack."
A man who never makes mistakes never makes anything else either. Miss Millicent Chyne was vaguely conscious of success and such a consciousness is apt to make the best of us a trifle elated. It was certainly one of the best balls of the season, and Miss Chyne's dress was, without doubt, one of the most successful articles of its sort there.
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