'I am to understand so?' he asked.
'Very well—yes, Doctor Bryerly,' I replied.
'You have resolved wisely and well,' said he, briskly, like a man who has got a care off his mind.
'I forgot to say, Doctor Bryerly—it was very rude—that you must stay here to-night.'
'He can't, my dear,' interposed Lady Knolly's; 'it is a long way.'
'He will dine. Won't you, Doctor Bryerly?'
'No; he can't. You know you can't, sir,' said my cousin, peremptorily. 'You must not worry him, my dear, with civilities he can't accept. He'll bid us good-bye this moment. Good-bye, Doctor Bryerly. You'll write immediately; don't wait till you reach town. Bid him good-bye, Maud. I'll say a word to you in the hall.'
And thus she literally hurried him out of the room, leaving me in a state of amazement and confusion, not able to review my decision—unsatisfied, but still unable to recall it.
I stood where they had left me, looking after them, I suppose, like a fool.