But,
notwithstanding the fact that she felt honored and distinguished by his
friendship, she sometimes, as now, found it difficult to follow the trend
of his conversation.
An hour before she had received an agonized note from her grandfather
saying that nothing had been accomplished, and that, unless she could use
her influence "in a quarter that should be nameless, all, all would be
lost!"
Her dark, brooding eyes swept the table with its profusion of silver and
cut glass, its affectation of candle-light when the world without was a
blaze of sunshine. She looked at Uncle Ranny, with his nervous, twitching
lips and restless, dissatisfied eyes; at Aunt Flo, delicate, affected,
futile; at Harold Phipps, easy, polished, serene. What possible chance
would there be of rousing people like that to sympathy for poor,
visionary Papa Claude? For three days the dread of having to fulfil her
promise had hung over her like a pall. Now that the time was approaching,
the mere thought of it made her head hot and her hands cold.
"Cheer up, Nell!" her uncle rallied her. "Don't let your misdeeds crush
you. You'll be in high favor again by the time you get back from
Baltimore.
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