He couldn't think I had followed him, even if he did see me in Paris,
because I would be with my Aunt and Uncle, and Lord Robert West; and I
made up my mind to be very nice to Lord Bob, much nicer than I ever had
been, if Ivor happened to run across us anywhere.
Then that very thing did happen, in the strangest and most unexpected
way, but instead of being happier for seeing him, I was ten times more
unhappy than before--for now the misery had no gleam of hope shining
through its blackness.
That was what I told myself at first. But after we had met in the hall
of the hotel, and Ivor had seemed confused, and wouldn't give up his
mysterious engagement, or say what it was, though Lisa chaffed him and
he _must_ have known what I thought, I suddenly forgot the slight he had
put upon me. Instead of being angry with him, I was _afraid_ for him, I
couldn't have explained why, unless it was the look on his face when he
turned away from me.
No man would look like that who was going of his own free will to a
woman with whom he was in love, that same queer something whispered in
my ear. Instead of feeling sick and sorry for myself and desperately
angry with him, it was Ivor I felt sorry for.
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