She thought gratefully, even at that moment, yet with less enthusiasm than ever before, of the devout homage, the delightful care for her happiness and comfort, the atmosphere of security with which Draconmeyer seemed always to surround her.

Yet all this was cold and unsatisfying, a poor substitute for the other things.

Henry had been different once.

Perhaps it was jealousy which had altered him.

Perhaps his misconception of Draconmeyer's character had affected his whole outlook.