“I am sorry that my behavior is not sufficiently good for you. You never found any cause to complain of it when our surroundings were less aristocratic. I am quite ashamed of taking so much of your valuable time. GOOD-morning.”
“Good-morning. But I do not see why you are in such a rage.”
“I am not in a rage. I am only grieved to find that you are corrupted by luxury. I thought your principles were higher. Good-morning, Miss Goff. I shall not have the pleasure of seeing you again in this very choice mansion.”
“Are you really going, Wallace?” said Alice, rising.
“Yes. Why should I stay?”
She rang the bell, greatly disconcerting him; for he had expected her to detain him and make advances for a reconciliation. Before they could exchange more words, Bashville entered.
“Good-bye,” said Alice, politely.
“Good-bye,” he replied, through his teeth. He walked loftily out, passing Bashville with marked scorn.
He had left the house, and was descending the terrace steps, when he was overtaken by the footman, who said, civilly,
“Beg your pardon, sir. You’ve forgotten this, I think.” And he handed him a walking-stick.