"I'm sure I don't know. Nothing is the matter that I am aware of, specially."
"Well, now, see here," said Mr. French, taking a seat close by, "I thought, maybe, you seemed so silent, that something had gone wrong, or I'd done something that displeased you. If I have, just let me know it."
Miss Grimshaw had risen erect, and now she was making for the door.
"I don't know what you call wrong. I call subterfuge wrong. Perhaps I am mistaken. It's all a matter of opinion, I suppose—but, anyhow, it is not worth discussing."
Then she was gone, leaving the astonished Mr. French to amuse himself with the problem of how he had employed subterfuge, and against whom.
She did not appear at supper, alleging a headache.
She went to bed at nine.