The agony within her was great to penetrate the consciousness of others through this fair triumphant mask.
Madelon looked better than her rival that morning.

Dorothy sat, as usual, daintily clad in her Sabbath silks and swan's-downs, with a sweet atmosphere as of a flower around her; but her delicate color had faded, and her blue eyes looked as if she had been weeping and had not slept.

She never glanced once at Eugene Hautville up in the singing-seats; but sometimes he looked at her, and then her face quivered under his eyes.
That noon Lot Gordon sent again for Madelon, but this time she refused to go.

"Tell him I am busy and can't come," she told Margaret Bean's husband, who had brought the note.

The old man went off, muttering over her message to himself lest he forget it.