He was wanted there, as the pile of letters on his writing-table could testify.

His father, too, was solitary at Hunsdon--and his business in Paris was over.

But the Dightons would not go for some days, and he could not very well leave them after they had come over for his sake.

He would have to stay, therefore, till they went; he would have to go on seeing the Costellos.
He tried to fancy he was sorry for this, but the attempt was a very poor one.

For a few days he would have to go on just as usual, and after that he would go home, and do what?
That was just the question.
Ought he to go on hoping now?
Had not he done all he could do?
Was it probable that a girl who had loved another man--and that man, Percy--faithfully for a whole year on the mere possibility that he might have remained faithful to her, and who had been throughout blind and insensible to a regard deeper and purer than his had ever been, would be able to transfer her heart whole and undivided as he must have it if he had it at all?
He dared not think it.