"
When it came to starting for the opera, "Mr. Carruthers will take you in
his brougham, Evangeline," Lady Ver said, "and I will be protected by
Robert. Come along, Robert," as he hesitated.
"Oh, I say, Lady Ver!" he said, "I would love to come with you, but won't
it look rather odd for Miss Evangeline to arrive alone with Christopher?
Consider his character!"
Lady Ver darted a glance of flame at him and got into the electric, while
Christopher, without hesitation, handed me into his brougham. Lord Robert
and I were two puppets, a part I do not like playing.
I was angry altogether. She would not have dared to have left me go like
this if I had been any one who mattered. Mr. Carruthers got in, and tucked
his sable rug round me. I never spoke a word for a long time, and Covent
Garden is not far off, I told myself. I can't say why I had a sense of
_malaise_.
There was a strange look in his face as a great lamp threw a light on it.
"Evangeline," he said, in a voice I have not yet heard, "when are you
going to finish playing with me? I am growing to love you, you know."
"I am very sorry to hear it," I said, gently. "I don't want you to. Oh,
please _don't_!" as he took my hand. "I--I--if you only knew how I _hate_
being touched!"
He leaned back and looked at me. There is something which goes to the head
a little about being in a brougham with nice fur rugs alone with some one
at night.
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