It was eleven o'clock. Only the night before, in the dining room of the Hong-Kong Hotel, she had watched him empty glass after glass of whisky, and shudder and shudder. Both, perhaps?’ At that, her eyes darkened with fury. "Are you his ghost, then?" "No—no," answered Jack. "Under the table. It would make my wife very happy. We both understood that. He'll be here two or three days. Chapter XVII THE CHANGE IN “ALCIDE” “By-the-bye,” his neighbour asked him languidly, “who is our hostess?” “Usually known, I believe, as Lady Ferringhall,” Ennison answered, “unless I have mixed up my engagement list and come to the wrong house. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters.
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