The calm of her face seemed almost to confuse him.
"Well?" she said. "Go on."
"Promise me not to justify anything people are saying, not to justify it
with--with that fellow Ulford."
"Good-bye," she answered, holding out her hand.
He recognised that the time for his advice had gone by, if it had ever
been.
"What a way--what a way for us to--" he almost stammered.
He recovered his self-possession with an effort and took her hand.
"At least," he said in a low, quiet voice, "believe it is less jealousy
that speaks within me than love--love for you, for the woman you are
trampling in the dust."
He looked into her eyes and went out. She did not see him again before he
left England. And she was glad. She did not want to see him. Perhaps it
was the first time in her life that the affection of a man whom she
really liked was distasteful to her. It made her uneasy, doubtful of
herself just then, to be loved as Robin loved her.
Carey had come back to town, but he went nowhere. He was in bad odour.
Sir Donald Ulford was almost the only person he saw anything of at this
time. It seemed that Sir Donald had taken a fancy to Carey. At any rate,
such friendly feeling as he had did not seem lessened after Carey's
exhibition at Arkell House. When Carey returned to Stratton Street, Sir
Donald paid him a visit and stayed some time. No allusion was made to the
painful circumstances under which they had last seen each other until Sir
Donald was on the point of going away.
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