People
brushed by her as they left the room, but she paid no heed.
Mrs. Vavasour spoke to her as she passed on her way to supper,
but Madelon did not answer. All at once she sprang up, looking
round as if longing to escape; as she did so, her eyes met
Graham's; he was standing close to her, behind her chair, and
something in his expression, something of sympathy, of
compassion perhaps, made her cheeks flame, and her eyes fill
with sudden tears of resentment and humiliation. He had heard
them, he had heard every word that had been said, and he was
pitying her! What right had he, what did she want with his
compassion? She met his glance with one of defiance, and then
turned her back upon him; she must remain where she was, she
could not go out of the room alone, but, at any rate, he
should not have the opportunity of letting her see that he
pitied her.
Horace, however, who had in fact heard every word of the
conversation, and perhaps understood Madelon's looks well
enough, came up to her, as she stood alone, watching the
people stream by her out of the room.
Pages:
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572