"Oh no, thank you."
"Let me give you a glass of wine."
But she waved her hand with a quick motion, saying, "Not wine; but a
little ice water."
She drank, but the water did not take the whiteness from her lips
nor restore the color to her cheeks. The look of dread or fear kept
in her eyes, and her companion saw her glance up and down the room
in a furtive way as if in anxious search for some one.
In a few moments Mrs. Abercrombie was able to rise in some small
degree above the strange impression which had fallen upon her like
the shadow of some passing evil; but the rarely flavored dishes, the
choice fruits, confections and ices with which she was supplied
scarcely passed her lips. She only pretended to eat. Her ease of
manner and fine freedom of conversation were gone, and the gentleman
who had been fascinated by her wit, intelligence and frank womanly
bearing now felt an almost repellant coldness.
"You cannot feel well, Mrs. Abercrombie," he said. "The air is close
and hot. Let me take you back to the parlors."
She did not reply, nor indeed seem to hear him. Her eyes had become
suddenly arrested by some object a little way off, and were fixed
upon it in a frightened stare. The gentleman turned and saw only her
husband in lively conversation with a lady. He had a glass of wine
in his hand, and was just raising it to his lips.
"Jealous!" was the thought that flashed through his mind.
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