It was the
vulgar action of a vulgar woman, but it failed of its effect in one
direction. Lord Holme was stirred, but Lady Holme was utterly
indifferent. Miss Schley's quick instinct told her so and she was
puzzled. She did not understand Lady Holme. That was scarcely strange,
for to-day Lady Holme did not understand herself. The curious mental
detachment of which she had been conscious for some time had increased
until it began surely to link itself with something physical, something
sympathetic in the body that replied to it. She asked herself whether the
angel were spreading her wings at last. All the small, sordid details of
which lives lived in society, lives such as hers, are full, details which
assume often an extraordinary importance, a significance like that of
molecules seen through a magnifying glass, had suddenly become to her as
nothing. A profound indifference had softly invaded her towards the petty
side of life. Miss Schley, Leo Ulford, even Fritz in his suppressed rage
and jealousy of a male animal openly trampled upon, had nothing to do
with her, could have no effect on her at this moment. She remembered that
she had once sighed for release. Well, it seemed to her as if release
were at hand.
The tenor finished his romance. Again the muffled applause sounded. As
the singer came from behind the screen, wiping beads of perspiration from
his self-satisfied face, Lady Holme got up and congratulated him.
Pages:
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269