a sensation of standing at bay; in his mulberry damask, in brocade and
silver buttons, he had an impression of himself stooped and savage,
confronting a menacing dark with Ludowika flung behind him. Inexplicable
tremors assailed him, vast fears. His father's deliberate voice
destroyed the illusion; he saw the candles about him like white and
yellow flowers, the suave interior. The others had returned. He heard
Ludowika speaking; she laughed. His tension relaxed. Suddenly he was
flooded with happiness, as if he had been drenched in sparkling,
delightful water. He joined in the gay, trivial clamour that arose.
Isabel Penny gazed at him speculatively.

There would, it appeared, be no other opportunity that evening for him
to declare himself to Ludowika. He was vaguely conscious of his mother's
scrutiny; he must avoid exposing Ludowika to any uncomfortable
surmising. His thoughts leaped forward to a revelation that he began to
feel was inevitable; he got even now a tangible pleasure from the
consideration of an announcement of his passion for Ludowika Winscombe,
a sheer insistence upon it in the face of an antagonistic world. But for
the present he must be careful. This, the greatest event that had
befallen him, summed up all that he innately was; it expressed him, a
black Penny, absolutely; Howat felt the distance between himself, his
convictions, and the convictions of the world, immeasurably widening.
His feeling for Ludowika symbolized his isolation from the interwoven
fabric of the plane of society; it gave at last a tangible bulk to his
scorn.

As he had feared, presently she rose and went to her room. Myrtle took
her place on the sofa. Gilbert Penny vanished with a broad witticism at
the well known preference of youth, in certain situations, for its own
council. David Forsythe made a wry face at Howat. Caroline gaily laid