IX
Mr. Anderson had finished with women forever. And this resolve gave to his face a new and not unbecoming sternness; the old ladies noticed it directly he entered the dining room that evening. Miss Selby noticed it, too, but pretended not to; she smiled that same chilly, polite smile, and said never a word—neither did he.
Supper was set before them, and they began to eat, still silent. And then she spoke suddenly.
“What’s the matter with your hand, Mr. Anderson?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing; thanks!” he answered.
Again a silence. But she could not keep her eyes off that clumsily-tied bandage on his hand.
“I wish you’d tell me!” she said.
It was an entirely different tone, but he was no longer to be trifled with like that. He smiled, coldly.
“No doubt you’ll be very much amused,” he remarked, “to learn that I’ve been bitten by a dog!”
He waited.