"And I can't conceive how it can concern Sir Jekyl, or even you, Lady Alice, what business my husband may have in town."
It was odd how sharp they were growing upon this point.
"Well, Sir Jekyl's another thing; but me, of course, it does concern, because I shall have to give him up his room again when he returns."
"What room?" inquired Lady Jane, honestly puzzled.
"This room," answered the old lady, like one conscious that she drops, with the word, a gage of battle.
"But this is my room."
"You don't use it, Lady Jane. I wish to occupy it. I shall, of course, give it up on your husband's return; in the meantime I deprive you of nothing by taking it. Do I?"
"That's not the question, Lady Alice. It is my room—it is my dressing-room—and I don't mean to give it up to any one. You are the last person on earth who would allow me to take such a liberty with you. I don't understand it."
"Don't be excited, my dear Jenny," said Lady Alice—an exhortation sometimes a little inconsistently administered by members of her admirable sex when they are themselves most exciting.
"I'm not in the least excited, Lady Alice; but I've had a note from you," said Lady Jane, in rather a choking key.