"Why does he do that?"
"I dunno," Cuckoo said.
She wondered why. Not so the doctor, to whom it had become evident
that Valentine had asked his guests out of vanity, and with a view to
some peculiar and monstrous display of his power over Julian. While
Cuckoo and Julian talked together on the divan Valentine came over to
the doctor. His eyes still held an expression of awe created in him by
the strange new glance of the lady of the feathers. He sought to conquer
this sensation of awe, which fought fiercely against his intended blatant
triumph of to-night.
"Your cigarette all right, doctor?" he said, in a quick voice.
"A delicious one, thanks."
Valentine began touching the ornaments on the mantelpiece with nervous
fingers.
"We didn't quite finish our conversation at dinner," he said.
"No?"
"I did not give you a reason for my belief."
A deep interest woke in the doctor, but he did not show it. He thought:
"So, he must insanely return to this one subject, round which his brain
makes an eternal tour."
"No," he said aloud; "you have a reason then?"
"Yes."
Valentine's voice vibrated with arrogance. His hand still darted to
and fro on the mantelpiece while he stood looking down at the doctor.
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