"
And feeling the air getting chilly, and the sight of the
enthralled Briggs painful, she went in to order his room to be got
ready, regretting now that she had pressed the poor boy to stay. She
had forgotten Lady Caroline's kill-joy face for the moment, and the
more completely owing to the absence of any ill effects produced by it
on Mr. Wilkins. Poor boy. Such a charming boy too, left to himself.
It was true she could not accuse Lady Caroline of not leaving him to
himself, for she was taking no notice of him at all, but that did not
help. Exactly like foolish moths did men, in other respects
intelligent, flutter round the impassive lighted candle of a pretty
face. She had seen them doing it. She had looked on only too often.
Almost she laid a mother hand on Briggs's fair head as she passed him.
Poor boy.
Then Scrap, having finished her cigarette, got up and went
indoors too. She saw no reason why she should sit there in order to
gratify Mr. Briggs's desire to stare. She would have liked to stay out
longer, to go to her corner behind the daphne bushes and look at the
sunset sky and watch the lights coming out one by one in the village
below and smell the sweet moistness of the evening, but if she did Mr.
Briggs would certainly follow her.
The old familiar tyranny had begun again.
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