His lawful wife; but nothing more; beyond that she was only an idea, a trust. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. Like the parrot, she could memorize the lines, but she could not understand them. “Why not?” Lady Lescelles answered. With a strong tendency to satire, but without a particle of malice or ill-nature in its display. Lee-o-no-ra. An unhappy little sigh escaped her. She could not make up her mind which was the finer, more elemental thing, which gave its values to the other. Manning, and that her aunt focussed a brightly tactful disregard upon this throughout the meal. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. Picked up the photograph, looked at it, handed it back, and never batted an eye! The act was as clear as daylight, but the motive was as profoundly mysterious as the race itself.
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