But he was in desperate despondency. “It's all that infernal cat, Mary,” he groaned; she kissed that knotted forehead.
He asked her: “By the way, where's that other brute?—the beast we brought here with us?”
She peered low. “I've just fed the poor thing.”
Attracted by her movement, that orange cat which had wrought the fearful disaster came forth from beneath the table.
“G-r-r-r!” George growled; stamped his foot.
The orange cat again took shelter.
“Ah, don't frighten it, dear,” Mary told him. “It's done no harm.”
George rose. He was too tremendously moved to contain himself while seated. “Done no harm!” he cried. He took a step to the window. “Done no—” He stopped short. “Oh, Lord! I say, Mary! Oh, Lord! here's Bill!”
Mary fluttered to his side; saw Bill Wyvern disappear beneath the porch of the door.
A knock; shuffling in the passage; footsteps up the stairs.