“Then I am not to blame.”
“Who attends you?”
“Colonel Brunswick.”
“That villain? You shall not go with him,” he said, starting up.
“Shall not?” she repeated, turning quickly.
“Excuse me, Irene, but it is my wish that you ignore that man’s society at once.”
“He is one of the most stylish men of my acquaintance.”
“He has no principle.”
“Oh, Scott!” she said, with a toss of her head. “Really, you do put a wonderful amount of stress on virtue, and think as little of style as though you were raised among a band of gypsies.”
Scott’s lips closed firmly. Such words from his wife astonished him. He arose, and trying to hide the wound which her words had caused, he said, as he came nearer: