Lady Marvlynn shrugged her shoulders, but made no reply. It was a way she had when in any great difficulty.
“I must request you to return me an answer, madam,” said the earl, with hauteur.
“I have striven—I have done my best, the very best I could, I am sure, my lord; you will acknowledge this?”
“Yes, I do.”
“But the poor child still clings to her husband.”
“Clings to her husband!” exclaimed the earl, in a perfect fury. “I say she must be mad—positively bereft of her senses; but, enough of this, if she persists in her obstinacy—well then, the tie between us is broken. I cannot, and will not, submit to this indignity. With her my word should be law.”
“And so it is, I hope.”
“We’ve a pretty sample of it now. Chicknell is in despair; he can’t move a step further in the business—nay, he declares he won’t. Am I to be bearded in my own house? Am I to be set at defiance? You must see yourself, Lady Marvlynn, I have strong reason for complaining.”
“I don’t deny it, my lord. Don’t be so excited, and listen calmly to me. Will you promise to do so?”
“Well, yes, of course I will,” said the earl, seating himself by the side of the library table. “Proceed, madam, I am all attention.”