“Maude,” said her ladyship then, “I wished to spare your feelings, and if you had been less recalcitrant”—that was a word that her ladyship had been hoarding up for the occasion, and it rather jarred against her second best set of teeth as she used it; it was such a hard, stony word, and so threatening to the enamel—“I should have kept this back, but now I must tell you that for your papa’s and my own satisfaction, we have had inquiries made as to this—this—Mr Melton’s character, by an impartial person, and you shall hear from his lips how misguided you have been.”
Maude turned pale, but, setting her teeth, she threw up her head and remained defiant and proud.
“After hearing this, I trust that your sense of duty to your parents will teach you to behave to Sir Grantley Wilters more in accordance with your relative positions. He does not complain, but I can often see that he is wounded by your studied coldness.”
“Not he; damned sight too hard.”
“Diphoos,” said her ladyship, “I had hoped that your visit to purer atmospheres taken at the expense of your papa would have had a more refining influence upon you.”
“So it has,” said Tom, sharply; “but if you keep on making use of that worn-out cad’s name, I must swear, so there.”
Her ladyship did not reply, but pointed to the bell, and Lord Barmouth dropped the hand with which he was about to caress his leg, toddled across the room and rang, surreptitiously feeling in one of his pockets directly after to see if something was safe.
Tryphie Wilders crossed to her cousin and took her hand, whispering a few consolatory words, while her ladyship played the heaving billow a little as she settled herself in her chair in a most magisterial manner.
“Robbins,” said her ladyship, as the butler entered, “has that gentleman arrived?”
“Been here five minutes, my lady. He is in his lordship’s study.”