As she passed to the drawing-room, Sepia looked in, and saw them together.
But, as the company kept arriving, Letty grew very restless.

She could not talk of anything for two minutes together, but kept creeping out of the room and half-way down the stair, to look over the banister-rail, and have a bird's-eye peep of a portion of the great landing, where indeed she caught many a glimpse of beauty and state, but never a glimpse of her Tom.

Alas! she could not even imagine herself near him.
What she saw made her feel as if her idol were miles away, and she could never draw nigh him again.

How should the familiar associate of such splendid creatures care a pin's point for his humdrum wife?
Worn out at last, and thoroughly disappointed, she wanted to go home.
It was then past midnight.

Mary went with her, and saw her safe in bed before she left her.
As she went up to her room on her return, she saw, through the door by which the gardener entered the conservatory, Sepia standing there, and Tom, with flushed face, talking to her eagerly.
Letty cried herself to sleep, and dreamed that Tom had disowned her before a great company of grand ladies, who mocked her from their sight.
Tom came home while she slept, and in the morning was cross and miserable--in part, because he had been so abominably selfish to her.
But the moment that, half frightened, half hopeful, she told him where she was the night before, he broke into the worst anger he had ever yet shown her.