All his normal calm and
self-possession seemed deserting him. His lips worked like those of a
man in the very extremity of rage, and the red glow in his cheeks
faded into the grey of suppressed passion. Julian was utterly taken
aback by such an exhibition of feeling.
"My dear fellow," he stammered, "I didn't mean--I had no idea--"
"You did mean that. You do. And I--I have been fool enough to believe
that you relied upon me, on my judgment; that you looked up to me;
that--good God, how absurd!"
He lay back in his chair and burst into a paroxysm of loud and mirthless
laughter, while Julian, holding his champagne-glass between his fingers,
and twisting it stealthily round and round, regarded him with a blank
stare of utter confusion and perplexity. Valentine continued to laugh
so long that it seemed as if he were seized in the grip of a horrible
hysteria. But just as the situation was becoming actually intolerable,
he suddenly controlled himself with an obvious and painful effort. After
remaining perfectly silent for two or three minutes, he said, in a voice
that struggled to be calm and succeeded in being icy:
"Julian, you have torn the veil of the Holy of Holies from the top to the
bottom with a vengeance.
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