“That is meant to be severe.”
“My severity won’t go for much.”
“I am sure you have deserved it,” said Mrs. Dugdale, most indiscreetly.
“Is this intended for an attack?” he asked, looking from one to the other.
“Not at all,” said Alice, affecting to laugh. “I should have said nothing if I thought mamma would take it up so seriously. I was only sorry to hear you speak of your new friends so slightingly.”
After that the conversation between them was very difficult, and he soon got up to go away. As he did so, he asked Alice to say a word to him out in the garden, having already explained to them both that it might be some time before he would be again down at Beetham. Alice rose slowly from her sewing-machine, and, putting on her hat, led the way with a composed and almost dignified step out through the window. Her heart was beating within her, but she looked as though she were mistress of every pulse. “Why did you say that to me?” he asked.
“Say what?”
“That I always wished for better things and better people than I found.”
“Because I think you ambitious,—and discontented. There is nothing disgraceful in that, though it is not the character which I myself like the best.”
“You meant to allude specially to the Wanlesses?”