"I hope you have a nice book for Sunday, Mason. I know it's your great day for reading."
"Yes, thank you, m'lady."
Lady Rossiter's thoughts dwelt tenderly on those copies of Ruskin and Stevenson, in the rather cheaper editions, which she kept for purposes of lending. She had drawn attention to several passages in them by faint scorings in pencil.
"Well, and which is it?"
Mason looked blanker than ever.
"What, m'lady?"
"Which book are you reading, Mason?"
The silence that ensued might, from Mason's expression, have been construed as one both sulky and resentful, but Edna waited with implacable sunniness.
Finally the maid, opening the door for her mistress, replied in a vicious manner:
"Well, m'lady, at the present, I'm reading a sweetly pretty story called 'East Lynne.'"