“Really, Mr. Bruce,” she replied with deliberate distinctness, “I should not expect it to be a matter of general interest if I had been. Perhaps you remember what Emerson says apropos of retailing woes of that character to one’s morning companions. I quite agree with him.”
Having thus delivered herself, the lady’s lips closed in the curves of beauty which nature had bestowed upon them, and she again gave her attention to the landscape.
Mrs. Bruce made a grimace as she met her son’s amused eyes.
“Now,” she thought, “I suppose she thinks she is even with me for last evening.”
Mr. Derwent, unconscious of injuring his sister’s effect, addressed Mrs. Nixon.
“You look done up, Marion. I am sorry you passed such a disturbed night.”
Mrs. Bruce pressed Irving’s arm and gave him a malicious side glance.
“You should all be equipped like myself for traveling,” continued Mr. Derwent rather grimly, “and take off your ear when you go to bed.”
“Poor gentleman,” thought Betsy. “How gladly he would lie awake to hear his neighbors, and if he could listen to the radiators snap, it would be music to him, I’ve no doubt.”