As I note this phenomenon, my heart burns within me--yea, burns even more hotly than my nose.

For father keeps Algy very tight, and I know that he has only three hundred pounds a year, besides his pay.
"I have had such bad news to-day," I say, suddenly, looking my _vis-a-vis_ full and directly in the face.
"Yes ?" So far she certainly shows no signs of emotion.

Her fan is still waving with slow steadiness.

I see the diamonds on her hands (whence did _they_ owe their rise, I wonder ?) glint in the fire-light.
"Roger is not coming back!" "Not at all ?" with a slight raising of the eyebrows.
"Not before Christmas, certainly." "Really! how disappointing! I am very sorry!" There is not a particle of sorrow in face or tone: only the counterfeit grief of an utterly indifferent acquaintance.

My heart feels a little lightened.
"And have _you_ no better luck, either ?" I say, more cheerfully.