It was a new sensation for
Waymark as he sank into a soft chair, and, in speaking, lowered his
voice, to suit the quietness of the room. The soft lamp-light
spreading through the coloured shade, the just perceptible odour of
scent when Mrs. Enderby stirred, the crackling of the welcome fire,
filled him with a sense of luxury to which he was not accustomed. He
looked at Maud. She was beautiful in her evening dress; and, marking
the grave, sweet thoughtfulness of her face, the grace of her
movements, the air of purity which clung about her, his mind turned
to Ida Starr, and experienced a shock at the comparison. Where was
Ida at this moment? The mere possibilities which such a question
brought before his mind made him uneasy, almost as if he had
forgotten himself and uttered aloud some word all unfit for ladies'
ears. The feeling was a novel one, and, in afterwards recalling it,
he could smile rather contemptuously, If we are enraptured with one
particular flower, shall we necessarily despise another, whose
beauty and perfume happen to be of quite a different kind?
Mr. Enderby appeared, followed by another gentleman. Waymark noticed
an unpleasant heat in the hand held out to him; there was a flush in
Paul's cheeks, too, and his eyes were very bright.
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