"Where is he?" asked she, in an agitated whisper. " He stared at the agitated curtain; and slowly his chin sank until it touched his chest. There haven't been so many ladies in the Lodge since the days of Claude Du Val, the gentleman highwayman; and they all declare it'll break their hearts if he's scragged. ‘Léonore, then?’ She shook her head animatedly, enjoying his attention. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. He sat in much the same attitude, and she stood just as she had stood when he told her she could not go to the Fadden Dance. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun.
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