'Mrs. Clarke, has my husband come in?'
'I haven't heard him, Mrs. Lennox,' was the answer that came up the kitchen stairs.
This was unfortunate, for her heart that had been softening towards him tightened into bitterness, and madness was near the thought that at the moment she was patiently waiting dinner for him he might be in the arms of another woman. She told the landlady, who came upstairs a second time in hope of a sociable glass, that she might bring the soup up (they always had soup on Sundays); if Mr. Lennox didn't choose to come in for his meals he might go without them. At that moment a ring at the door was heard, and, throwing himself in an armchair, Dick said he was tired.
'I dare say you are; I can easily understand that,' was the curt reply.
An expression of pain passed over his face.
'Goodness me, Kate!' he said in a perplexed voice. 'You don't mean to say you're angry still!'
No attention was paid to the landlady, who was placing the soup on the table, and she, being pretty well accustomed to their quarrels, said with an air of indifference as she left the room:
'Dinner is served. I shall bring the leg of mutton up when you ring.'
No answer was made to her, and the couple sat moodily looking at each other. After a pause Dick tried to be conciliatory, and in the most affectionate phrases he could select he besought Kate to make it up.
'I assure you, you're wrong,' he said. 'I've been after no woman. Do, for goodness' sake, make it up.'