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Updated: May 28, 2025
The next batch of arrivals contained Lord Wensleydown, who showed no hesitation as to his desired destination in the saloon. He made a bee-line for Theodora, and took a low seat at her feet. Hector, with more caution, was rather to one side. Rage surged up in him, although his common-sense told him as yet there was nothing he could openly object to in Wensleydown's behavior.
Wensleydown's face, as he stood with Mildred, drove him mad with its mocking leer, and if he had heard their conversation there might have been bloodshed. Josiah returned to the saloon, and made his way to the bridge-room to Sir Patrick and his hostess; but Hector still leaned against the door.
The remembrance of the menace on Morella's dull face as she had watched Theodora depart, and, above all, Wensleydown's behavior as they all said good-night: nothing for him actually to take hold of, and yet enough to convulse him with jealous fury. Oh, if she were only his own! No man should dare to look at her like that. But Josiah had stood by and not even noticed it.
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