She left him there, and walked off with Mervyn.
'If you must talk to him, wait,' she advised, laughing. 'Or write to him—that's better. Or let it alone—that's best of all. But at any rate I don't want what the papers call a fracas, and I call a shindy, in my house. With your people here too!' The Barmouths' presence would make a shindy seem like sacrilege.
'You're quite right,' he said gravely.
She glanced at him in pity and in ridicule. 'Heavens, how you take things, Mortimer!' she murmured. 'You might have seen that he only wanted to be nasty.'
'He shall have no more opportunities of obtruding himself on Trix.'
'Poor Trix!' sighed Lady Blixworth. It was not quite clear what especial feature of Trix's position she was commiserating.
'I shall speak plainly to him.'
'That's just why I wouldn't let it occur in my house.'
'Why do you have him here?'