Even now the room seemed to vibrate with her voice, and he could imagine that the French novel, fallen from her lap on to the carpet, winked at him as much as to say:
"Oh, we're up to her tempers, aren't we? We know what they're worth. We don't care!"
At last Dorchester appeared.
"Her Grace is in bed and will see you, sir," she said.
Her face was grave and without expression.
After another glance at his watch he passed into the bedroom.
CHAPTER VIII
THE TIGER
"For every Manne there lurketh
hys Wilde Beast."
Sardus Aquinas (1512).