"Very well. Then there's an end of it."
"But Tom; you know I've been provoked. Haven't I now? How often have you been home to dinner since you have been member of parliament for that place?"
"I shall be more at home now, Kitty."
"Shall you indeed? Then I'll not say another word to vex you. What on earth can I want, Tom, except just that you should sit at home with me sometimes on evenings, as you used to do always in the old days? And as for Martha Biggs—"
"Is she come back too?"
"Oh dear no. She's in Red Lion Square. And I'm sure, Tom, I never had her here except when you wouldn't dine at home. I wonder whether you know how lonely it is to sit down to dinner all by oneself!"
"Why; I do it every other day of my life. And I never think of sending for Martha Biggs; I promise you that."
"She isn't very nice, I know," said Mrs. Furnival—"that is, for gentlemen."
"I should say not," said Mr. Furnival. Then the reconciliation had been effected, and Mrs. Furnival went up stairs to prepare for dinner, knowing that her husband would be present, and that Martha Biggs would not. And just as she was taking her accustomed place at the head of the table, almost ashamed to look up lest she should catch Spooner's eye who was standing behind his master, Rachel went off in a cab to Orange Street, commissioned to pay what might be due for the lodgings, to bring back her mistress's boxes, and to convey the necessary tidings to Miss Biggs.
"Well I never!" said Martha, as she listened to Rachel's story.