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The very air is still. There is no sound, no motion, save the coming and going of their own breath as it rises quickly from their hearts, filled full of passionate admiration for the loveliness before them.,"She is not a lady," says Lady Rodney, as though that should terminate the argument.,"Yet he dares to admire you?" is what he does say, after a decided pause.,"There is no need for regret, darling," says he. "I am heart-whole, and I know no woman that loves me, or for whose affection I should ask, except yourself.",In the house of Rodney there is mourning and woe. Horror has fallen upon it, and something that touches on disgrace. Lady Rodney, leaning back in her chair with her scented handkerchief pressed close to her eyes, sobs aloud and refuses to be comforted.,She tells herself this lie without a blush, perhaps because she is so pale at the bare thought that her eyes may never again be gladdened by his presence, that the blood refuses to rise.,"I thought so all along," says Geoffrey, gravely.,"Let it be so, then," replied the husband; "but remember that if trouble comes, it is you who have brought it on yourself and on our son.",Then Mrs. Geoffrey turns quickly, and runs home at the top of her speed. She is half sad, yet half exultant, being filled to the very heart with the knowledge that life, joy, and emancipation from present evil lie in her pocket. This thought crowns all others.,"How Rome and Spain would enchant you," he says watching her face intently, "and Switzerland, with its lakes and mountains!","Because, of course, you will, you must. Your world is not mine.",They are all standing in a sort of anteroom, curtained off, but only partly concealed from the ballroom. Young Lady Chetwoode, who, as I have said, is a special pet with the duchess, is present, with Sir Guy and one or two others..