"A very clever epistle," she said; "very clever. And of course you grant the pardon. They know that very well. They were quite sure of that when they ran away, otherwise Cecil would not have been such a fool; but he knew your weakness—knew how easily you were to be managed, and was quite sure that I should never oppose him."
Meredith Vyner took a pinch, angrily.
"Shall we have them to live with us? I dare say that is what they expect—and, perhaps, it would be the best. Or do you intend making them an allowance?"
Meredith Vyner took three pinches, rapidly.
"Do you know, dear, I think, perhaps, it would be as well not to relent at once, because it will be such a precedent. Keep them waiting a little. They will be all the more grateful when it does come."
"And who said it was to come at all?" asked the indignant Vyner.
"I took that for granted."
"Yes, yes, of course, for granted. Everybody seems to take things in my house for granted. I'm not to be considered. My wishes are not to be consulted. And yet I believe I am master here—I may be wrong—but I fancy this house is mine."
His wife smiled inwardly, as she added, "And your children's."
"How my children's?" he sharply asked. "It is none of theirs; it will not even be theirs at my death. Theirs, indeed!"