“By Jove! you startle me,” said he, throwing away the unlighted cigar he had held for some minutes in his fingers; “I did n't know it was so bad.”
“It is possible he may relax for you and Mrs. Sewell; indeed, I think it more than likely that he will.”
“Ay, but the relaxation might only be in favor of a few more like that old gent we had to-day. No, no; the thing will never work. I see it at once. My mother said we could not possibly stand it three weeks, and I perceive it is your opinion too.”
“I did not say so much,” said she, smiling.
“Joking apart,” said he, in a tone that assuredly bespoke sincerity, “I could n't stand such a dinner as we had to-day very often. I can bear being bullied, for I was brought up to it. I served on Rolffe's staff in Bombay for four years, and when a man has been an aide-de-camp he knows what being bullied means; but what I could not endure is that outpouring of conceit mingled with rotten recollections. Another evening of it would kill me.”
“I certainly would not advise your coming here at that price,” said she, with a gravity almost comical.
“The difficulty is how to get off. He appears to me to resent as an affront everything that differs from his own views.”
“He is not accustomed to much contradiction.”
“Not to any at all!”
The energy with which he said this made her laugh heartily, and he half smiled at the situation himself.