It was not the world which was out of joint, which was rushing to its destruction.

It must be she who was mad--stark mad--to have believed these chimeras.
As she got out of the carriage a step came lightly along the gravel, and Lord Newhaven emerged into the little ring of light by the archway.
"It is very good of you to come," he said, cordially, with extended hand.

"My poor wife is very unwell, and expecting you anxiously.

She told me she had sent for you." All was unreal--the familiar rooms and passages, the flickering light of the wood fire in the drawing-room, the darkened room, into which Rachel stole softly and knelt down beside a trembling white figure, which held her with a drowning clutch.
"I will be in the drawing-room after dinner," Lady Newhaven whispered, hoarsely.

"I won't dine down.