He wrote, but had no reply. His only comfort was an
ever-rising suspicion of the truth (as he would learn it later), but
fears were, on the whole, strongest within him. Confidence in her he
had not. All the reflections of that last evening on Hastings pier
lived and re-lived in his mind; outcome of the cynicism which was a
marked feature in his development, and at the same time tending to
confirm it. She had been summoned back suddenly by a letter; who but
a simpleton could doubt what that meant? He thought of Sally, of
course, and the step she had taken; but could he draw conclusions
about Ida from Sally, and did ever two such instances come within a
man's experience? To Sally herself he had naturally had recourse,
but in vain. She said that she knew nothing of the lost girl. So
Waymark fought it out, to the result of weariness; then plunged into
his work again, and had regained very much his ordinary state of
mind when Maud Enderby unexpectedly came before him.
He called upon the Enderbys, and was soon invited to dine, which
necessitated the purchase of a dress suit. On the appointed evening,
he found Maud and her mother in a little drawing-room, which had a
pleasant air of ease and refinement.
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