Near the caller stood a useless policeman, his shield pinned on the outside of his wet rubber coat, on which the carriage lamps were momentarily reflected in long vertical streaks.
In a short time all the guests were gone except the one young lady whose maid and carriage had somehow not been sent.

Henrietta Vance's brother took this one home in a hired hack.

Mrs.Vance and Henrietta sat down to rest for a moment in the empty parlours.

The canvas-covered floors were littered with leaves of smilax and La France roses, with bits of ribbon, ends of lace, and discarded Phrygian bonnets of tissue paper.

The butler and the second girl were already turning down the gas in the other rooms.
* * * * * Long before the party broke up Vandover had gone home, stunned and dazed, as yet hardly able to realize the meaning of what had happened.
Some strange and dreadful change had taken place; things were different, people were different to him; not every one had been so outspoken as Turner, Henrietta Vance and her mother, but even amongst others who had talked to him politely and courteously enough, the change was no less apparent.