Surely he had the same causes for annoyance as Clarence; but his breeding forbade him to show whatever inward vexation he may have felt,--certainly not to allow it to influence his manners.

Clover drew a mental contrast between the two which was not to Clarence's advantage.
"Who's that fellow anyway ?" demanded Clarence.

"How long have you known him?
What business has he to be bringing you roses, and making up parties to take you off on private cars ?" Something in Clover's usually soft eyes made him stop suddenly.
"I beg your pardon," he said in an altered tone.
"I really think you should," replied Clover, with pretty dignity.
Then she moved away, and began to talk to Geoff, whose grave courtesy at once warmed into cheer and sun.
Clarence, thus left a prey to remorse, was wretched.

He tried to catch Clover's eye, but she wouldn't look at him.

He leaned against the balustrade moody and miserable.