He knew nothing of chess-indeed, he could not stand the game; but from here, without attracting attention, he could watch Mrs.
Bellew.
The air was drowsy and sweet-scented; a log of cedarwood had just been put on the fire; the voices of his mother and Mrs.Bellew, talking of what he could not hear, the voices of Lady Malden, Mrs.Brandwhite, and Gerald, discussing some neighbours, of Mrs.Winlow dissenting or assenting in turn, all mingled in a comfortable, sleepy sound, clipped now and then by the voice of General Pendyce calling, "Check!" and of Bee saying, "Oh, uncle!" A feeling of rage rose in George.

Why should they all be so comfortable and cosy while this perpetual fire was burning in himself?
And he fastened his moody eyes on her who was keeping him thus dancing to her pipes.
He made an awkward movement which shook the chess-table.

The General said behind him: "Look out, George! What--what!" George went up to his mother.
"Let's have a look at that, Mother." Mrs.Pendyce leaned back in her chair and handed up her work with a smile of pleased surprise.
"My dear boy, you won't understand it a bit.

It's for the front of my new frock." George took the piece of work.

He did not understand it, but turning and twisting it he could breathe the warmth of the woman he loved.