“Going to stay dinner, Harry?” said Garstang.
“Oh, yes; I’m going to stay dinner,” said the young man, giving him a defiant look.
“Well, it will be pleasanter, but it is a very dark ride.”
“Yes, but I’m going to walk.”
“No, you aren’t,” said Claud, in a sulky tone of voice; “we’re going to have you driven over.”
“There is no need.”
“Oh, yes, there is. I want a ride to have a cigar after dinner, and I shall come and see you off. We don’t do things like that, even if we haven’t asked anyone to come.”
Kate made her appearance again at dinner, and once more Garstang was the life and soul of the party, which would otherwise have been full of constraint. But it was not done in a boisterous, ostentatious way. Everything was in good taste, and Kate more than once grew quite animated, till she saw that both the young men were eagerly listening to her, when she withdrew into herself.
Mrs Wilton got through the dinner without once making her lord frown, and she was congratulating herself upon her success, as she rose, after making a sign, when her final words evolved a tempestuous flash of his eyes.
“Don’t you think you had better stop till the morning, Harry Dasent?” she said.