Maurice had said it was his last word. He goes straight from Marian
Bethune to one of the reception-rooms, called the lesser ballroom,
where some dancing is going on. His face is a little white, but
beyond that he betrays no emotion whatever. He feels even surprised
at himself. Has he lost all feeling? Passing Randal Gower he
whispers a gay word or two to him. He feels in brilliant spirits.

Tita Bolton is dancing, but when her dance comes to an end he goes
to her and asks her for the next. Yes; he can have it. She dances
like a little fairy, and when the waltz is at an end he goes with
her, half mechanically, towards the conservatory at the end of the
room.

His is calm now, quite calm; the chatter of the child has soothed
him. It had been a pleasure to dance with her, to laugh when she
laughed, to listen to her nonsense. As he walks with her towards the
flowers, he tells himself he is not in the least unhappy, though
always quite close to him, at his side, someone seems to be
whispering:

"It is all over! it is all over!"

Well, so much the better. She has fooled him too long.

The conservatory at the end of the lesser ballroom leads on to the
balcony outside, and at the end of that is another and larger
conservatory, connected with the drawing-room. Towards this he would
have led her, but Tita, in the middle of the balcony, stops short.