"Where are you going, Dominga?" she asked.
"I am going with you—a pleasant surprise!"
"But, Dom, you cannot come; you know you were not invited."
"Oh, yes, I can. Tea is nothing—she will not mind."
"Then I shall not go at all," announced Verona, and as she spoke she began to remove her hat. "I will write a note of excuse. Please tell the man to take round the victoria."
Mrs. Chandos was barely in time to hear the fag end of this conversation, and burst out in a fury of passion.
"Hi! hi! what do you mean giving those grand lady orders here? I only give orders in this house. You learn thatt, Miss. I now order you, take your sister to Mrs. Barwell's. If you were not a bad hearted, mean, thankless wretch, you would feel glad and proud to introduce Dominga to your friends. She shall go—and I say it!"
"Then she goes alone; and, indeed, I am not at all anxious to resume my acquaintance with Mrs. Barwell."
"Oh, it is already three o'clock," screamed Mrs. Chandos; "you will be late! What is the good of you—you idle, useless doll, but to help your sisters into society?" Mrs. Chandos was perfectly livid with passion; her tongue, now loosened, gave vent to a torrent of abuse.
At this particular moment Verona caught sight of her father timidly opening the door of his den, and, turning her back on her storming mother, she hurried to appeal to him.