He often wished that there were not quite so many women in the world who insisted on embracing him.
"Well, you're a kind of cousin, you see," he said by way of defence.
After a while Claire cooled from her excitement to the cold understanding of her folly.

Then she grew, very naturally, bitterly unhappy, and to his horror Tinker heard the sound of a stifled sob.
"I think, if you'll excuse me," he said hurriedly, "I'll go to sleep." And, happily for his comfort, his pretence at slumber was soon a reality.

It was no less a comfort to Claire: she had her cry out, and felt the better for it.
When the carriage drew up before the Hotel des Princes, they found an excited group about the doorway.

Sir Everard Wigram was the centre of it, raging and lamenting.

He had missed his daughter, and with his usual good sense was taking all the world into his confidence.