“Bless my soul!”
Lady Selina, however, was the first to recover her self-possession. She spoke very kindly to the unhappy old man.
“Thank you, Nicodemus. I beg your pardon. Had I guessed that such a message could be sent to me, I should not have asked you to deliver it. The man, of course, is mad.”
“With grief,” added Agatha defiantly.
Lady Selina ignored her, looking at Nicodemus.
“When he recovers his senses he will apologise.”
“Not if I knows ’un,” quavered the old man. “I allers says that rich folk should be treated wi’ respect.”
At this moment Agatha scrapped self-control. Her nerves, of course, were on edge. Possibly, too, Arthur Wilverley had overworked a too willing typist. And the spirit of revolt, as we know, was beginning at that time to stir the hearts of women. Agatha ought to have remembered what she owed to Lady Selina, who, in a material sense, had helped her to find herself. But, even here, the sense of obligation may have rankled. At any rate, the really irritating cause was the conviction that her holiday had been wrecked by Lady Selina’s neglect of great issues entrusted to her. She addressed Nicodemus angrily:
“Yes; treated with respect—if they deserve it.”
John attempted a warning cough.