“You may ask, of course, Terry; but I don't mean to tell you,” answered Nora.
“It is because of you he is going to Ireland?”
“It is because of something I have said.”
“How do you think our mother will like it? You know how proud she is; how all these years she has determined to put a good face on things, and not to allow her relations in England to know the truth. I have followed her cue, and have been careful to make the very best of things at Castle O'Shanaghgan.”
“Oh, it is easy to tell lies,” said Nora, with scorn.
“Nora, you talk in a very silly way, and I often have no patience with you,” answered her brother. “If I have regard to my mother's feelings, why should you despise me? You are supposed to consider our father's feelings.”
“That is very different; the whole thing is different,” said Nora. She flushed, bit her lip, and then turned away.
“You must hear me,” said Terence, looking at her with some impatience; “you must, you shall. You are quite intolerable with your conceit and your silly, silly Irish ways.”
“Well, go on. What have you to say to me?”
“That I think you were guilty of dishonor in talking as you did at dinner last night. You spoke of the place and the poverty in a way which quite put me to the blush. I hope in future, while you are here, you will cease to run the O'Shanaghgans down. It is not worthy of you, Nora, and I am ashamed of you.”