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The woman sank down on the couch again; her over-wrought nerves gave way, and burying her face in the cushions she sobbed hysterically. Nevill looked at her for a moment. Then he put a couple of sovereigns on the table and quietly left the room. Three days later, at the unusually early hour of nine in the morning, Victor Nevill was enjoying his sponge bath.
"With your 'feelings' about things. They're almost always right. I'm afraid of them. I shouldn't dare send the pigeon now, for fear " "For fear of what?" "I hardly know. I told you that you made me superstitious." Stephen stood between the open gates of the bordj, looking north, whence Nevill should come.
Nobody went in at the gate, or came out, and the time dragged for Stephen. He thought of a hundred dangers that might be threatening Victoria, and it seemed that Caird would never come. But at last he saw the boyish figure, hurrying along under the light of a street-lamp. "Couldn't find De Mora at first then had to work slowly up to the subject," Nevill panted. "But it's all right.
"So that is your answer!" she exclaimed, harshly. "And there is another woman! You shall never marry her never!" "You fiend!" The threat goaded Jack to fury, and he might have lost his self-control. But just then quick footsteps fell timely on his ear. "Get behind that screen, or go into the next room," he muttered. "No; it won't matter it must be Nevill." Diane held her ground.
But a few minutes later, it seemed that he had. And Nevill was not surprised, for in the last nine years he had learned never to wonder at the quick-witted diplomacy of Arabs.
Nevill glanced over his correspondence carelessly they were mostly cards for receptions and tradesmen's accounts until he reached a letter bearing a foreign stamp. It was a long communication, and the reading of it caused him anything but satisfaction, to judge from the frown that gathered on his features. "I wouldn't have credited Sir Lucius with such weakness," he muttered angrily.
But Stephen knew what he wished to say, and said it, as soon as Nevill let him speak; but Nevill began first. "Maybe going to deserve name of Wings," he muttered. "Shouldn't wonder. Don't care much." "Is there any one thing in this world you want above everything else?" asked Stephen. "Yes. Sight of Josette. One thing I can't have." "Yes, you can," said Stephen quietly. "She's coming.
Several supposed clues had been followed, and had led to nothing; but Nevill persuaded Stephen to hope something from the ball.
"I was thinkin' of a friend of mine, what'll be sorry I was took." At a safe distance Victor Nevill stopped and turned around. When the cab rolled away, he walked slowly back, looking keenly at the house as he passed it. His demeanor was calm, but it was only skin deep. He felt like swearing loudly at everybody and everything.
From the day she weaned him, no one had ever seen her caress the child. She handled him with a touch as light and fleeting as his own; her lips seemed to shrink from contact with his pure soft skin. There could be no doubt of it, Mrs. Nevill Tyson's behavior was that of a guilty woman guilty in will at any rate, if not in deed.
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