"Oh, how could you!" cried Fulvia in distress. "We were so happy all together, and you have quite spoilt the day. How could you come and say such things?"
Mr. Browning was not taken ill there and then, as everybody feared—everybody except Mr. Carden-Cox, who showed dire offence at Fulvia's remonstrance, and required a large amount of polite attention to win his pardon. Being a man who never avowed himself in the wrong, he naturally could not stand blame.
No particular ill-effects were apparent that evening from the unwished-for agitation. Mr. Browning even came to the drawing-room after dinner, and exerted himself to a certain degree of melancholy cheerfulness. He was particularly affectionate to Fulvia, calling her "my dearest child" repeatedly. Still no allusion was made to Fulvia's affairs.
"He is better than I expected," Nigel remarked late in the evening to Fulvia, others having disappeared. Fulvia usually remained five minutes later than the rest of the party, clearing away odds and ends. "Seems none the worse for Mr. Carden-Cox."
"I was afraid he would be."
"At the moment—yes."
"I am glad the day is over," Fulvia said with an accent of relief.
"Not very satisfactorily over, for you."
"Why?"
"You ought, at least, to have had what Mr. Carden-Cox calls 'a statement.'"