The question now in his mind was whether or no he should make his resentment plain to Ludwell Cary.
At long intervals, three or four times in the winter, perhaps, it was the latter's custom to lift the knocker of Rand's door, and to sit for an hour in Jacqueline's drawing-room.

Sometimes Rand was there, sometimes not; Cary's coming had grown to be a habit of the house, quiet, ordered, and urbane as all its habits were.

Its master now determined, after a moment's sharp debate, to say nothing that he might not have said before he knew the identity of that writer to the Gazette.
He was conscious of no desire for immediate retaliation; these things settled themselves in the long run.

He did not intend speaking of the matter to Jacqueline.

Pride forbade his giving Cary reason to surmise that he had hit the truth.