“And, remember, if you keep us waiting, as you often do, you will discover that I am anything but an angel!”
“I won’t keep you waiting,” responded her brother, serenely, “for the excellent reason that I’m not going to Sandown! I’m going up the river instead.”
“And breaking your other engagements?” she asked sharply.
“I can’t see that at all. It was left an open question.”
“Was it!” she exclaimed, in a still sharper key. And again she looked over at me with a gleam in her eye, and I could see that, cool as she tried to appear, she was furiously angry; indeed, her voice trembled a little as she added, “Well, of course, it is merely a question of taste!”
And this was her last word—her parting shot. With an overwhelmingly haughty bow—to be distributed amongst us—Lady Polexfen swept away, and joined two gentlemen and a lady, who had been interested spectators of the recent slight passage-at-arms. Speaking for myself, I felt decidedly uncomfortable, and it was some seconds before I ventured to look at our host. Yes, undoubtedly he had reddened a little (whether with anger or shame I could not guess), and was carefully filling Emma’s wine-glass.
“How very pretty your sister is!” she ventured with great magnanimity, endeavoring to take the rough edge off our thoughts. “I never saw a more delicate profile! She is a little like Lady Hildegarde.”
“Yes, she resembles my mother a good deal in many ways, and, being her only daughter, she has been a bit spoiled—always wants her own way, as you may see.”
“And now, Mr. Somers,” continued Emma, “you will not make a stranger of me, nor allow me to accept any little arrangements your sister has made. You must postpone our trip. You know you can take us up the river any time!”
But to this suggestion he would not listen, and displayed a will fully as robust as his relative’s. In fact, he became almost angry at last, and Emma was compelled to succumb.