The party presently began to disperse. The Dean found himself beside his
hostess--strolling over the lawn towards the house. He observed her
attentively--vexed with her, and vexed for her! Surely she was thinner
than he had ever seen her. A little more, and her beauty would suffer
seriously. Coming he knew not whence, there lit upon him the sudden and
painful impression of something undermined, something consumed from
within.
"Lady Kitty, do you ever rest?" he asked her, unexpectedly.
"Rest!" she laughed. "Why should I?"
"Because you are wearing yourself out."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"Do you ever lie down--alone--and read a book?" persisted the Dean.
"Yes. I have just finished Renan's
Vie de Jesus!"
Her glance, even with him, kept its note of audacity, but much softened
by a kind of wistfulness.
"Ah! my dear Lady Kitty, let Renan alone," cried the Dean--then with a
change of tone--"but are you speaking truth--or naughtiness?"
"Truth," said Kitty. "But--of course--I am in a temper."
The Dean laughed.
"I see Lord Parham is not a favorite of yours."
Kitty compressed her small lips.
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