The whole scene, every movement, every corner of the room was visible to Clarice like a scene on the stage of a theatre; it was visible also to Drake.
Clarice could note the disconsolate attitude of Lord Cranston, the smile of tenderness upon his wife's face.

She saw Lady Cranston set her arms gently about his neck, and her lips move, and then a low hoarse cry burst from Drake at her side.
It sounded to her articulate with all the anguish and all the suffering of which she had ever heard.

There was a harsh note of irony in it too, which deepened its sadness.

It seemed almost an acknowledgment of defeat in the actual moment of victory--a recognition that after all his opponent had really won.
The cry was a revelation to Clarice; it struck her like a blow, and she started under it, so that the rings of the curtain rattled upon the pole.
Drake bent sharply towards her; she caught a gleam of his eyes in the darkness.

Then with a catch of his breath he started back.