"No, it doesn't, Jack," said Teresa, with sudden feeling—partly regret at having hurt whatever feeling he had, partly fear lest something ugly in him should revenge that former friendship he spoke of. "I don't want to snub you. But I am changed, that's true. And the reason is, I'm unhappy. Now, for Heaven's sake, don't say another word."
"I beg your pardon," he said in a low voice. In his startled, grave look she saw this time genuine feeling. He was silent, while Teresa plunged back into chatter with her younger neighbours. At the end of the dinner, amid the brilliant disorder of the dessert, with the women leaning their bare elbows on the table and most of them talking loud, Fairfax leaned toward the laughing Teresa and said:
"I say, if you ever want anything or anybody, you know, I'm at your service, and anything I've got."
She nodded, barely looking at him, as the women left the table. His words sent a cold shiver over her. That it could be supposed possible that she should need a service from Fairfax! What did he imagine? Why had she said that to him—that she was unhappy? Need the world know it, if she was? Were people to comment on her inmost life—was her soul to go in rags before them? "Have you heard? The Ransomes have separated! I thought it couldn't last! He
