He had seen her hitherto as a girl; now he was to see her as
the high-bred hostess, the mistress of a large and magnificent mansion.
He owned to himself that she was simply perfect. He had seen nothing in
better taste, although he had been on intimate terms with the great ones
of the earth. As he watched her, he thought to himself that, high and
brilliant as was her station, it was not yet high enough for her. She
flung a charm so magical around her that he was insensibly attracted by
it, yet he was not the least in love--nothing was further from his
thoughts. He could not help seeing that, after a fashion, she treated
him differently from her other guests. He could not have told why or
how; he felt only a certain subtle difference; her voice seemed to take
another tone in addressing him, her face another expression as though
she regarded him as one quite apart from all others.
The dinner-party was a success, as was every kind of entertainment with
which Philippa L'Estrange was concerned. When the visitors rose to take
their leave, Norman rose also. She was standing near him.
"Do not go yet, Norman," she said; "it is quite early.
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