“Humph! not saying much that; but this is begging the question. I shall want to stay in England another three months, and, as I was saying, the Hudsons go back by the next boat. I’ve been to the office: you can have a cabin, so you had better accompany them.”
“No, dear, I shall stay and go back with you.”
Thorpe pushed his chair away from the table impatiently.
“My dear sister, where is your pride?”
“My dear brother, where is your sympathy?”
“How can I have sympathy for a girl who is so blind to her own dignity! Now, my dear Pacey, do you not agree with me that my sister is behaving very foolishly?”
“No,” said Pacey, holding his glass of wine to the light, shutting one eye and scowling at it with the other—“no, sir, I don’t.”
“Thank you, Mr Pacey,” said Cornel, laying her hand upon the table, so that he could take it in his and press it warmly.
“Can’t kiss it before company,” he said, in his abrupt way. “Please take it as being done—or owing.”
“You are as bad over the scamp as she is,” cried Thorpe sharply.