Lesbia could nowhere be better off than on the yacht,
where she was away from the gossip and tittle-tattle of the town.
The roadstead was quiet enough now. All the racing yachts had melted
away like a dream, and most of the pleasure yachts were off to Ryde.
Lady Lesbia lay in her curtained cabin, with Kibble keeping watch beside
her bed, while Maulevrier came in every half-hour to see how she
was--sitting by her a little now and then, and talking of indifferent
things in a low kind voice, which was full of comfort.
She seemed grateful for his kindness, and smiled at him once in a way,
with a piteous little smile; but she had the air of one in whom the
mainspring of life is broken. The pallid face and heavy violet eyes,
the semi-transparent hands which lay so listlessly upon the crimson
coverlet, conveyed an impression of supreme despair. Hartfield, looking
down at her for the last time when he came to say good-bye before
leaving for London, was reminded of the story of one whose life had been
thus rudely broken, who had loved as foolishly and even more fondly, and
for whom the world held nothing when that tie was severed.
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