"But, answer me,—do you believe Lady Bernard would invite her to meet her friends if she knew all?"
"Depend upon it, Lady Bernard knows what she is about. People of her rank can afford to be unconventional."
This irritated me yet more, for it implied that I was influenced by the conventionality which both he and my husband despised; and Sarah opening the door that instant, I stepped in, without even saying good-night to him. Before she closed it, however, I heard my husband's voice, and ran out again to welcome him.
He and Roger had already met in the little front garden. They did not shake hands—they never did—they always met as if they had parted only an hour ago.
"What were you and my wife quarrelling about, Rodge?" I heard Percivale ask, and paused on the middle of the stair to hear his answer.
"How do you know we were quarrelling?" returned Roger gloomily.
"I heard you from the very end of the street," said my husband.
"That's not so far," said Roger; for indeed one house, with, I confess, a good space of garden on each side of it, and the end of another house, finished the street. But notwithstanding the shortness of the distance it stung me to the quick. Here had I been regarding, not even with contempt, only with disgust, the quarrel in which Miss Clare was mixed up; and half an hour after, my own voice was heard in dispute with my husband's brother from the end of the street in which we lived! I felt humiliated, and did not rush down the remaining half of the steps to implore my husband's protection against Roger's crossness.
"Too far to hear a wife and a brother, though," returned Percivale jocosely.
"Go on," said Roger; "pray go on. Let dogs delight comes next. I beg Mrs. Percivale's pardon. I will amend the quotation: 'Let dogs delight to worry'"—