She had made a _confidante_ of no one.

That her relation to Manisty was accepted and understood in Rome; that it was regarded as a romance, with which it was not so much ill-natured as ridiculous to associate a breath of scandal--a romance which all kind hearts hoped might end as most of such things should end--all this she knew.

She had been proud of her place beside him, proud of Rome's tacit recognition of her claim upon him.

But she had told her heart to nobody.

Her wild scene with Lucy stood out unique, unparalleled in the story of her life.
And now there was no one she craved to see--not one.