— V —EXPLANATIONS
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,
When other petty griefs have done their spite,
But in the onset come; so shall I taste
At first the very worst of fortune’s might.
—Sonnets
In spite of the fact that his mind was at ease respecting the portrait, Campion was by no means cheerful during his journey to town. In all probability he would meet Sybil at the private view next day, but he could not calculate with any certainty upon the treatment she might see fit to accord him, and he could not help feeling himself in a very anomalous position. She had not written a line to him since he saw her last; he could not even be sure whether he might still consider himself engaged or not. Tomorrow her first look would end his doubts — but he rather shrank from thinking ho
