“She has not had any, Frank,” said Claire indignantly.
“Then she ought to have had some. That’s the reason. You hold your tongue. Now, madam, jump up.”
The MC had stood looking on, with his face working, but saying no word till now that Burnett caught his wife roughly by both hands and tried to pull her to her feet.
“Stop!” he cried firmly. “Really, Frank Burnett, you are ungentle in the extreme.”
“Here, I know what I’m doing,” he retorted. “She’s my wife.”
“And she’s my daughter, sir,” cried Denville haughtily; “and while I am by no half-tipsy man shall insult her.”
“Half-tipsy? Who’s half-tipsy? This is the result of coming here, sir.”
“Where I have been on thorns for the last two hours, lest my guests should see what a state you were in.”
“State? What do you mean?”
“I will not expose you more before your young wife,” said Denville quietly. “We are both angry, and had better say good-night. May, do you feel well enough to go home?”