"How could you imagine so absurd a thing, Mr. Tremenhere?" asked the not very imaginative Lady Ripley, not certain whether to feel offended or no.
"I really cannot conceive! Altogether it would have been out of place; for love, they say, flies out of the window when poverty enters at the door. This never could be applicable to Lady Dora," and he bowed in seeming excuse before her. So much did his heart war against her, that, even desirous as he was to gain his point, he could not restrain his tongue from words of bitterness; yet she felt it impossible to think he meant them: she looked upon it as a natural sarcasm of character, which made a gentle word doubly dangerous.
"You are going in a huge body to see a Parisian wonder to English eyes, to-night, I understand, Lady Ripley," he said, turning the conversation.
"Yes, truly; I am curious to see a Bal Masqué à l'Opera, never having witnessed one."
"Indeed! shall you go early?"
"I really do not know. I was averse to going, and especially taking Lady Dora; but Lady Lysson has made up her party, and, closely concealed by dominoes, I presume we shall pass unnoticed."
"You accompany us, I believe?" hazarded Lady Dora, addressing him.
"I hope to meet you there," was the reply; "accompany, that I shall not be able to accomplish. Lady Lysson spoke of a signal by which her party should know one another; a rose on the left breast, I think?"
"Yes; but it seems unnecessary to me," replied Lady Ripley; "for, of course, we shall none of us separate."
"But in mercy to those forced to come late and rejoin the party, it is done," he answered.