“I don't think he likes me now—he can't like me,” said Alice. “But he is angry. It is simply pride and vanity. From something papa said, I am sure of it, Lord Wynderbroke has been telling his friends, and speaking, I fancy, as if everything was arranged, and he never anticipated that I could have any mind of my own; and I suppose he thinks he would be laughed at, and so I am to undergo a persecution, and he won't hear of anything but what he pleases; and papa is determined to accomplish it. And, oh! what am I to do?”
“I'll tell you, but you must do exactly as I bid you. Who's there?” he said suddenly, as Alice's maid opened the door.
“Oh! I beg pardon—Miss Alice, please,” she said, dropping a curtsey and drawing back.
“Don't go,” said Uncle David, “we shall want you. What's the matter?”
“Sir Reginald has been took bad with his foot again, please, Miss.”
“Nothing serious?” said Uncle David.
“Only pain, please, Sir, in the same place.”
“All the better it should fix itself well in his foot. You need not be uneasy about it, Alice. You and your maid must be in my cab, which is at the hall door, in five minutes. Take leave of no one, and don't waste time over finery; just put a few things up, and take your dressing-case; and you and your maid are coming to town with me. Is my brother in the drawing-room?”
“No, Sir, please; he is in his own room.”
“Are the gentlemen who dined still here?”