She remarked presently, not opening her eyes: “I should like to make a bon-fire of all the pictures in the world, all the etchings, the carvings, the tapestries, the bric-à-brac in general,—and Basil Mayburn, in sackcloth and ashes, should light it.”
“What puritanic savagery, Eppie!”
“I prefer the savage puritan to the Basil Mayburn type; at least I do just now.”
“What’s the matter?” Gavan asked, after a little pause.
“Do I show it so evidently?” she asked, with a faint smile. “Everything is the matter.”
“What, in particular, has gone wrong?”
Eppie did not reply at first, and he guessed that she chose only to show him a lesser trouble when she said, “I’ve had a great quarrel with Miss Grey, for one thing.”
“The positivistic lady?”
“Yes; did Maude tell you that? She really is a very first-rate person—and runs this place; but I lost my temper with her—a stupid thing to do, and not suddenly, either, which made it the less excusable.”
“Are your theories so different that you came to a clash?”