He was jealous; he hated the whole party below.

In imagination he saw Elizabeth with her friends, supping most likely in that other, more resplendent restaurant, only a few yards away.

He imagined her the centre of every attention.
Without a doubt, she was looking at her neighbor as she had looked at him.

Tavernake bit his lip, frowning.

If he had had it in his power, in those black moments, to have thrown a thunderbolt from his place, he would have wrecked every table in the room, he would have watched with joy the white, startled faces of the revelers as they fled away into the night.