"Well, mother," he said, "it is about Frank. But he is all right; that is, he is alive and well-in body. But he has arranged a hateful little embarrassment for us—he is married."
"Married!" exclaimed his mother faintly. "Oh, poor Lady Agnes!"
Marion sniffed a little viciously at this.
"Married? Married?" said his father. "Well, what about it? eh? what about it?"
The mother wrung her hands. "Oh, I know it is something dreadful— dreadful! He has married some horrible wild person, or something."
Richard, miserable as he was, remained calm. "Well," said he, "I don't know about her being horrible. Frank is silent on that point; but she is wild enough—a wild Indian, in fact."
"Indian? Indian? Good God—a red nigger!" cried General Armour harshly, starting to his feet.
"An Indian? a wild Indian?" Mrs. Armour whispered faintly, as she dropped into a chair.
"And she'll be here in two or three days," fluttered Marion hysterically.
Meanwhile Richard had hastily picked up the Times. "She is due here the day after to-morrow," he said deliberately. "Frank is as decisive as he is rash. Well, it's a melancholy tit-for-tat."