The Dust of Conflict by Harold Bindloss

TONY PALLISER walked home to Northrop, and was glad when he reached it, for he found even the slight physical effort difficult. He felt half- dazed, and brushed past two of his tenants who greeted him on the road without recognizing them. He did not remember whether he offered any explanation as to why he had not remained at Low Wood, as he had purposed, but by and by he found himself sitting in Godfrey Palliser's chair at the head of the great dinner-table. The big candles were lighted, for the evenings were drawing in, and as he vacantly noticed the glitter of the light on the glass and silver he remembered the opportunity that had been given him there. He had let it pass, and now another had spoken.

Still, as he strove to eat because he felt the servants' eyes upon him it was the loneliness of the shadowy hall that most troubled him. He had noticed it often since Godfrey Palliser died, for Tony was not fond of his own company; but he had pictured Violet Wayne sitting opposite him then, and now it was borne in upon him that she would never smile at him across his table. As yet he scarcely realized the depth of his humiliation, for it was the result of it which must be faced, and not the thing itself that filled him with horror.