"Do you intend to smoke that cigar in the brougham as we go to my mother's party?" asked Lady Harriet.
"I'm not aware that your mother minds smoke; but as a matter of fact I'm not going to the party at all."
"You're expected—I said you'd come."
"I'm sorry, Harriet, but you misunderstood me."
Tom Courtland stood his ground firmly and answered civilly, though with a surly rough tone in his voice. His wife was still very quiet, yet Raymore and Grantley exchanged apprehensive looks; the lull before the storm is a well-worked figure of speech, but they knew it applied very well to Lady Harriet.
"You're going home, then?"
"Not just now."
"Where are you going?"
"To the club."
"What club?"