Vernon looked perplexed, and his tone grew a little more diffident as he continued—
“Then why not have spared me the humiliation of this reception? Just two lines sent by the stable boy would have been enough, and you may be sure I should never have troubled you with what, I hope, has been a painful interview to you.”
Vernon said “hope,” and even put a slight emphasis on the word, as he had a suspicion that his hostess was ill-natured enough to have found some enjoyment in his discomfiture. With a ceremonious and dignified bow he was passing her on his way to the door, when a genial voice startled them both, and Mr. Denison entered.
Not being a man of specially quick perceptions, the new comer did not at once see that anything was wrong. He seized Vernon by both hands, welcomed him in warm words, and with apologies for having been absent on his arrival.
“And where’s my Olivia?” he went on, turning to his wife, now observing for the first time the unpromising frown on that lady’s face, and believing that his daughter’s neglect was the cause. “She should have been here to help you entertain Mr. Brander.”
Mrs. Denison began to say something inarticulately, but Vernon, in a clear and deliberate voice, took the words out of her mouth.
“You do Mrs. Denison injustice. Judging from the manner in which she has entertained me, I should think she is not only able, but that she prefers, to do without any assistance.”
Mrs. Denison looked both confused and alarmed, as she stammered something about Mr. Brander’s having misunderstood her. For her husband, like many other easy-going men, was subject to occasional fits of passionate violence, which, for a woman of Mrs. Denison’s cold and somewhat stodgy temperament, had peculiar terrors.
“Misunderstood!” cried he, in an ominous tone of surprise and perplexity.
“Misunderstood what?”