The old lady spoke with a spice of temper; and George laughed, but he was angry too.
He got up and threw his cigar into the fire. "I am going out for a bit. I daresay I shan't be in for dinner; don't wait, please," said he. "I am sick to death of the chatter about this trial. You can talk it over with Lyddy and the Cohens without my assistance, can't you?"
And he went out, leaving Mrs. Sauls to repent her indiscretion. She lost the greatest pleasure of the week when her son didn't dine with her on Saturday. Her tongue was occasionally a match for his, but she was heavily handicapped by Nature; for, naturally, even so good a son as George did not find in his mother, as she found in him, the chief joy and object of existence! George was not in the least quick-tempered as a rule, however; and their chaff seldom resulted in anything approaching a huff.
Mrs. Sauls sat on the stool of repentance till dinner time, when she drank her best champagne—which was produced only when George was expected—without tasting it, and found no savour in her dinner.
Lyddy, loud and high-coloured, took George's place at the bottom of the table, and "Uncle Benjamin" was pleased. Benjamin Cohen had snubbed George in his nephew's youth; now times were changed, and old Benjamin would have been glad to forget certain by-gones; but, unfortunately, George had an excellent memory; consequently, the uncle liked Lyddy the better of the two, though he entertained the greater respect for his nephew.
They discussed the trial in all its bearings, but Mrs. Sauls sat silent and heavy. She was as great a talker as her son as a rule; but to-night she contributed only one observation during the whole of the dinner. When Benjamin Cohen remarked that he had heard that the defendant's health had been quite broken down by the rough treatment he had received, she observed that she had no opinion of preachers, and that no doubt it served him right.
After dinner, they played cards; and she lost heavily, and took no pleasure in the game. Usually she was keenly interested; though it was an understood thing, that when she won, the stakes were merely nominal, and that when Benjamin won, they were bonâ fide. Mr. Benjamin swept them up very comfortably to-night.
The candles in the heavy gold candlesticks had burnt down pretty low before the game showed any signs of ending. Lyddy played on the grand piano at the further end of the big drawing-room; and her aunt, a faded, gentle, little woman, dozed peacefully in an armchair.
It was close on eleven o'clock when Mrs. Sauls' face visibly brightened; she had heard George's step on the stairs.
He came in and shook hands with his uncle, and kissed his aunt, to whom he was always genuinely kind, and then came and leaned on the back of his mother's chair, and overlooked her cards.