"Oh, are you here, Miss Maylands?" he inquired, discontentedly.
"Yes. Am I in the way? Marion has just gone with Mr. Darche to his study. This note came a few moments ago and she gave it to me to read. I think you ought to see it."
John Darche's brow contracted as he ran his eye over the page. Then he slowly tore the note to shreds and tossed them into the fire.
"I do not know why my wife thinks it necessary to take all her friends into the confidences of the family," he said, thrusting his hands into his pockets and going to the window, thereby turning his back upon Dolly.
Dolly made no answer to the rude speech, but quietly continued to cut the pages of the magazine, until, seeing that Darche did not move and being herself rather nervous, she broke the silence again.
"Am I in the way, Mr. Darche?"
"Not at all, not at all," said John, waking, perhaps, to a sense of his rudeness and returning to the fireplace. "On the contrary," he continued, "it is as well that you should be here. There will probably be hysterics during the course of the day, and I have no doubt you know what is the right thing to do under the circumstances. There seems to be a horticultural show here," he added, as he noticed for the first time the vases of flowers on the tables.
"They are beautiful roses," answered Dolly in a conciliatory tone.
"Yes," said John, drawing in his tin lips. "Beautiful, expensive—and not particularly appropriate to-day. One of my wife's old friends, I suppose. Do you know who sent them?"