“No!” said Scarlett, in a sharp, harsh, peremptory way. “I am not going to town again—at present.”
“Nonsense, man I—Tell him he may come, Lady Scarlett.”
“Oh yes, yes; I should be glad for him to go!” cried Lady Scarlett eagerly; and then she shrank and coloured as she saw the doctor’s searching look.
“There, you hear.”
“Yes, I hear; but I cannot go. The glass-houses could not be left now.”
“What, not to our old friend Monnick?”
“No; certainly not; no,” cried Scarlett hastily. “Come out now—in the garden, Jack. I’ll show you.—Are you very busy in town—much practice?”
“Practice?” cried Scales, laughing, and thoroughly off his guard as to himself. “Not a bit, my dear boy. I’m a regular outcast from professional circles. No practice for me.”
“Then there is nothing to take you back,” cried Scarlett quickly, “and you must stay.—Kate, do you hear? I say he must stay!”
There was an intense irritation in his manner as he said these words, and his wife looked up in a frightened way.