"You were rude to Mr. Randolph at dinner, West," she said.
"I am sorry if I vexed you," I answered.
"But what had he done to annoy you?"
"I could not bear him to send that carriage. It was so unsuitable, servants in livery and those splendid horses; and all the boarders did stare so. It seemed quite out of keeping with our present lot. But never mind, Mummy, he may bring any carriage—the Lord Mayor's, if you like—only don't look so unhappy." I felt the tears had come into my voice, but I took good care they should not reach my eyes. I bent and kissed mother on her cheek.
"You want your old life, your dear old life," I said, "and your old comforts. I am very happy, and I want you to be the same. If I have made a mistake, and you are injured by this, it will break my heart."
"I am not injured at all, I am happy," she said.
"You like Mr. Randolph?"
"I do. He belongs to the old life."
"Then he is no mystery to you?"
"I take him quite simply, as a good-natured fellow, who has plenty of money, and is attracted by our rather queer position," she answered, "that is all. I don't make mysteries where none may exist."