One side of the face was white with foamy lather and the other ruddy-cheeked and blue-jawed. For the present, he murmured his farewells, and turning, caught Hilary’s eye and walked away, crossing the ballroom to move into the less opulent, and less crowded, saloon next door where servants were dispensing refreshments. During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. “And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying. They’ll face facts as facts, and understand. He passed, and came loitering back and stood beside her, silently looking into her face.
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