‘Well, I’ll leave you,’ said the other, with a dreary look about the room. ‘The table ought to have been cleared by now—but that’s nothing new.’
‘Confounded servants,’ muttered Horace.
‘Oh yes, the servants,’ was Peachey’s ironical reply.
As soon as he was left alone, Horace turned out the gas. Then he stood near the door, trembling with amorous anticipation. But minutes went by; his impatience grew intolerable; he stamped, and twisted his fingers together. Then of a sudden the door opened.
‘Why, it’s dark, there’s nobody here.’
Fanny discovered her mistake. She was seized and lifted off her feet.
‘Oh! Do you want to eat me? I’ll hit you as hard as I can, I will! You’re spoiling my dress?’
The last remonstrance was in a note that Horace did not venture to disregard.
‘Strike a light, silly! I know you’ve done something to my dress.’
Horace pleaded abjectly to be forgiven, and that the room might remain shadowed; but Fanny was disturbed in temper.