Now her trust
was shaken. She thought of the crutch.
Realising herself she had said within herself, "Poor Robin!" seeing
perhaps the tigress where he saw the angel. Now she asked herself whether
the angel could conquer where the tigress might fail. People had come
round her like beggars who have heard the chink of gold and she had
showed them an empty purse. Could she show them something else? And if
she could, would her husband join the beggars? Would he care to have even
one piece of gold?
Whether Lord Holme's obvious infatuation had carried him very far she did
not know. She did not stop to ask. A woman capable, as she was, of
retrospective jealousy, an egoist accustomed to rule, buffeted in heart
and pride, is swift not sluggish. And then how can one know these things?
Jealousy rushes because it is ignorant.
Lord Holme and she were apparently on good terms. She was subtle, he was
careless. As she did not interfere with him his humour was excellent. She
had carried self-control so far as never to allude to the fact that she
knew about the supper-party. Yet it had actually got into the papers.
Paragraphs had been written about a wonderful ornament of ice,
representing the American eagle perched on the wrist of a glittering
maiden, which had stood in the middle of the table. Of course she had
seen them, and of course Lord Holme thought she had not seen them as she
had never spoken of them.
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