"Yes, but the years run circling fleeter,
Ever they pass me--I watch, I wait--
Ever I dream, and awake to meet her;
She cometh never, or comes too late."
_Sir Alfred Lyall._
"The thing I don't understand about you," I said, "is why you have never
married. Your love affairs seem to consist in ruining other people's. I
was on the verge of getting married myself years ago when you lounged in
and spoilt my chance. But when you had done for me you did not come
forward yourself, you backed out. I believe, if the truth were known,
you have backed out over and over again."
Sinclair did not answer. He frowned and looked sulkily at me with
lustreless eyes. He was out of health, and out of spirits, and ill at
ease.
The large, luxurious room, with its dim oriental carpets and its shaded
lights, and its wonderful array of Indian pictures and its two exquisite
rose-red lacquer cabinets, had a great charm for me who lived in small
lodgings in the city near my work. But it seemed to hold little pleasure
for him. I sometimes doubted whether anything held much pleasure for
him. He had just returned from China. The great packing cases piled one
above another in the hall were no doubt full of marvellous acquisitions,
china, embroideries, rugs. But he did not seem to care to unpack them.
"Did I really spoil your marriage?" he said listlessly. He looked old
and haggard and leaden-coloured, and it was difficult to believe he was
the magnificent personage who had diverted Mildred's eyes from me ten
years before.
"Don't pretend you didn't know it at the time," I retorted.
His behaviour had been outrageous, and I, with my snub nose and
crab-like gait, had been cast aside. I could not blame her. He was like
a prince in a fairy tale. I never blamed her. She knows that now; in
short, she knows everything.
"No, my pepper pot, I won't pretend I didn't know it. But I thought--I
had a strong impression--I was mistaken, of course, but I thought
that--"
"That what?"
His face altered.
"That it was _she_," he said below his breath.