"If yours are Canadian manners, I cannot congratulate you, Mr. Dale. My reason for changing my mind is my reason, not yours."
"Your words and actions, Mrs. Cole, force me to act at once."
"Come," she said, with a sneer at the speaker, now turning to her husband, "Come, Charles, I regret to interrupt these ladies in their attentions, but you must button up your top-coat."
"I wish you'd stay even for dinner," he says, nervously.
"No, the night air is bad for you, come at once;" and she fixes him with her stony eyes.
"Sit down again, Mrs. Cole;" said Mr. Dale, firmly; and to the renewed astonishment of all, "I have something to say to you."
"No, I take no interest in the sayings of an ill-bred man. Good-evening, Mrs. Gower."
"This won't do, Mrs. Cole; I regret your line of action, as it forces a disagreeable duty upon me in my friend's drawing-room, and not in a court of law, as I had intended. My friend Dr. Annesley, of London"—at this, she set her teeth in a determined way—"Dr. Annesley has written me the sad history of this little lady."
"You are a very rude man to detain me, while you prate of a perfect stranger," she says, her face blazing, and making a move to the hall, "Come, Charles."
Mr. Cole, instead of nearing her, hobbles across the room, seating himself beside Mr. Blair, whose face with its look of power, draws him unconsciously.