urned a while with this
particular revolt she ceased to think of herself and of what, as
regarded herself, Selina had intended: all her thought went to the mere
calculation of Mrs. Berrington's return. As she did not return, and
still did not, Laura felt a sharp constriction of the heart. She knew
not what she feared--she knew not what she supposed. She was so nervous
(as she had been the night she waited, till morning, for her sister to
re-enter the house in Grosvenor Place) that when Mr. Wendover
occasionally made a remark to her she failed to understand him, was
unable to answer him. Fortunately he made very few; he was
preoccupied--either wondering also what Selina was 'up to' or, more
probably, simply absorbed in the music. What she _had_ comprehended,
however, was that when at three different moments she had said,
restlessly, 'Why doesn't Mr. Booker come back?' he replied, 'Oh, there's
plenty of time--we are very comfortable.' These words she was conscious
of; she particularly noted them and they interwove themselves with her
restlessness. She also noted, in her tension, that after her third
inquiry Mr. Wendover said something about looking up his friend, if she
didn't mind being left alone a moment. He quitted the box and during
this interval Laura tried more than ever to see with her glass what had
become of her sister. But it was as if the ladies opposite had arranged
themselves, had arranged their curtains, on purpose to frustrate such an
attempt: it was impossible to her even to assure herself of what she had
begun to suspect, that Selina was now not with them. If she was not with
them where in the world had she gone? As the moments elapsed, before Mr.
Wendover's return, she went to the door of the box and stood watching
the lobby, for the chance that he would bring back the absentee.
Presently she saw him coming alone, and something in the expression of
his face made her step out into the lobby to meet him. He was smiling,
but he looked embarrassed and strange, especially when he saw her
standing there as if she wished to leave the place.

'I hope you don't want to go,' he said, holding the door for her to pass
back into the box.

'Where are they--where are they?' she demanded, remaining in the
corridor.

'I saw our friend--he has found a place in the stalls, near the door by
which you go into them--just here under us.'

'And does he like that better?'

Mr. Wendover's smile became perfunctory as he loo