Evey’s dinner, of course, was far ahead of three-hand.  The McVeys were very rich, far richer than the Heths (theirs had been the marriage of McVey’s Drygoods and Notions, Wholesale Only, and Herkimer’s Fresh Provisions), and were considered “not quite” by some people, though Evey certainly went everywhere and was very refined.  Accordingly, the evening’s viands were of the best and the table talk at least good enough for all practical purposes.  Carlisle, who was almost feverishly animated, lingered till the last possible moment:  Evey actually asked her to spend the night, and she actually came very near doing it.  Escorted home in a maritime hackney-coach by young Mr. Robert Tellford (whose heart had been lacerated by rumors that persistently reached him), Canning’s betrothed permitted Robert to linger in the library, positively detained him in the library, till eleven-thirty o’clock:  courtesies which would have run like wine to the young Tellford head but for the lady’s erratic and increasing distraitness....

The bibulous metaphor is here reversible.  It possessed mutuality, so to say.  Cally herself would drown trouble to-night with intoxicating draughts of human society.  But there came a time when this resource was denied her; when the human bars closed, as it were; in short, when all the society in reach must sorrowfully put on his tall hat and go.  And then there came the nocturnal stillness of the house, and then the solitariness of the bedchamber, and after that the dark.

Now the question that had rumbled all evening cloud-like in the background of her consciousness, swam and took shape in the midnight shadows, dangling before the eye of her mind in gigantic and minatory capitals: 

     WOULD HE TELL?

To this stark inquiry all the girl’s problem came down.  Gone like a fever-mist was the emotional flare-up (as mamma would have said) which had tricked her into blurting out a secret scarcely even formulated before in her own inmost soul.  That mysterious moment remained merely as an astonishment.  It was the strangest thing that had ever happened to her; she had simply been swept away by some unfathomable madness.  And at present Nature’s first law was working in her with obliterating force. Would the man tell? Here in the sane and ordered surroundings, with mamma sleeping and satisfied one floor below, and a long, long letter to be written to her knight among men the first thing to-morrow, there was nothing in the world that mattered but that.  If Vivian would not tell, then, indeed, all was well with her.  If he did tell ...

He had said that he would not tell without first seeing her.  But of course there was nothing under heaven to prevent his seeing her, or sending word to her, at any time, by day or by night.  And then what?

Carlisle lay upon her back, rather small and frightened in the tall bed, struggling to pluck away the veil from the face of the menacing future.  What would “telling” mean, exactly?...