Then there came a striking silence, for Gaston paused.

He looked towards the Ladies Gallery.

As if in a dream--for his brain was working with clear, painful power--he saw, not Delia nor her mother, nor Lady Dargan, but Alice Wingfield! He had a sting, a rush in his blood.

He felt that none had an interest in him such as she: shamed, sorrowful, denied the compensating comfort which his brother's love might give her.

Her face, looking through the barriers, pale, glowing, anxious, almost weird, seemed set to the bars of a cage.
Gaston turned upon the House, and flashed a glance towards Lord Faramond, who, turned round on the Treasury Bench, was looking up at him.