Dearmer's tale.
On the second occasion Sydney Fellowes followed her as soon as he could
do so without undue comment.
"Why did you go?" he asked.
"That woman maddens me."
"Yes, she is--the fact is, you ought not to be here."
"Not be here!" she exclaimed. "This is my home. It is she who ought not
to be here. I shall speak to my uncle."
"Wait! Have a little patience," said Fellowes. "After all, she is Mrs.
Dearmer, a lady of fashion, a lady who has been to Court. You would be
astonished at the power she wields in certain directions. In these days
the world is not censorious, and is apt to laugh at those who are."
"If you merely came to defend that woman, I am in the mood to like your
absence better than your company."
"I hate her," Fellowes answered. "I think I hate all women now that I
have known one beautiful, pure ideal. Oh, do not misunderstand me. I
look up at a star to worship its dazzling brightness, and I would not
have it come to earth for any purpose. You are too far removed from Mrs.
Dearmer to understand her, nor can she possibly appreciate you. To fight
her would be to fail, just now at any rate--even Sir John would laugh at
you.
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