"I can't be responsible for your feelings," she said, a little brusquely, "but I'm quite sure that I don't know you well enough to be sitting here at tea with you even."
"I won't admit that," he answered, "but it was very nice of you to come.
"The fact of it was," she admitted, "my headache and appetite were stronger than my sense of the conventions. Now that the former are dissipated the latter are beginning to assert themselves. And so—"
She began to draw on her gloves. Just then a carriage with postilions and ladies with luggage came clattering up the street. She watched it with darkening face.
"That is the sort of man I detest," she said, motioning her head towards the window. "You know whose carriage it is, don't you?"
He shook his head.
"No, I did not know that any one round here drove with positions."
"It is the Marquis of Arranmore. He has a place at Enton, I believe, but he is only here for a few months in the year."
Brooks started and leaned eagerly forward.
"Why do you hate him?" he asked. "What has he done?"