"Let me alone," she quavered. "Go away, both of you; I don't want anyone."
"I don't know what has upset you," Vivian stammered. "I didn't mean anything particular."
"You did," she gasped; "you insulted me—you tried to! You said I was too low to judge her—your mother was too low to judge her! I'll never talk about your marriage again as long as I live. I don't want to hear about it." She dabbed her eyes and cheeks impetuously, and moved to the door. "I hope you'll be happy ... that's all. I'm going; I've nothing more to say."
The door closed, and there was a moment's pause. Her sons looked at each other.
"Damned nonsense!" said Vivian, scowling.
"I didn't mean any harm. I wish I hadn't come."
"She has gone up to her bedroom," said David constrainedly. "You'd better run up after her."
"What for—to have another scene? No, thank you; I've had enough.... Well, I suppose we may as well go."
"I think I'll just say a word to her first. Will you wait for me? I won't be long. You will wait, won't you? I want to talk to you."
Vivian nodded. "All right; but don't tell her that I want to come up, because I don't. It's beastly, this sort of thing. Good Lord! one would think I was dependent on her; one would think she was making me an allowance.... Give me a cigarette."