He gazed at the singer, and though he was not musical, there came a look
into his eyes that he quickly hid away.

A slight murmur occurred in the centre of the room, and from the
fireplace Gerald called out, "Thanks; that's rippin!"

The voice of General Pendyce rose in the bay-window: "Check!"

Mrs. Pendyce, taking up her embroidery, on which a tear had dropped,
said gently:

"Thank you, dear; most charming!"

Mrs. Bellew left the piano, and sat down beside her. George moved into
the bay-window. He knew nothing of chess-indeed, he could not stand the
game; but from here, without attracting attention, he could watch Mrs.
Bellew.

The air was drowsy and sweet-scented; a log of cedarwood had just been
put on the fire; the voices of his mother and Mrs. Bellew, talking of
what he could not hear, the voices of Lady Malden, Mrs. Brandwhite,
and Gerald, discussing some neighbours, of Mrs. Winlow dissenting or
assenting in turn, all mingled in a comfortable, sleepy sound, clipped
now and then by the voice of General Pendyce calling, "Check!" and of
Bee saying, "Oh, uncle!"

A feeling of rage rose in George. Why should they all be so comfortable
and cosy while this perpetual fire was burning in himself? And he
fastened his moody eyes on her who was keeping him thus dancing to her