Edouard felt as it were a portcullis of ice come down between her and him.

She courtesied and glided away.

He bowed and stood frozen to the spot.
He felt so lonely and so bitter, he must go to Jacintha for comfort.
He took advantage of the ladies being with Dard, and marched boldly into the kitchen of Beaurepaire.
"Well, I never," cried Jacintha.

"But, after all, why not ?" He hurled himself on the kitchen table (clean as china), and told her it was all over.

"She hates me now; but it is not my fault," and so poured forth his tale, and feeling sure of sympathy, asked Jacintha whether it was not bitterly unjust of Rose to refuse him her own acquaintance, yet ask him to amuse that old fogy.
Jacintha stood with her great arms akimbo, taking it all in, and looking at him with a droll expression of satirical wonder.
"Now you listen to a parable," said she.