Kate entered with her uncle as soon as he had spoken, and Claud attacked her directly.
“Altered your mind?” he said.
“No, Claud; you must excuse me, please,” was the reply.
“All right. Off, father?”
“Yes, my boy. In about half an hour or so; I have two or three letters to write.”
“Two or three letters to write!” muttered the young man, as he went out into the veranda, to light his pipe, and keep on the watch for the coveted opportunity; “haven’t you any brains in your head?”
But James Wilton’s half-hour proved to be an hour, and when, after seeing him off, the son returned to the hall, he heard voices in the drawing-room, and gave a vicious snarl.
“Why the devil don’t she go?” he muttered.
There were steps the next moment, and he drew back into the dining-room to listen, the conversation telling him that his mother and cousin were going into the library to get some particular book.
There, to the young man’s great disgust, they stayed, and he waited for quite half an hour trying to control his temper, and devise some plan for trying to get his mother away.