“But,” said Miss O’Faley, “you have not told us yet what the man says.”
“He says he will be here whenever we please.”
“That’s never,” said Miss O’Faley: “never, I’d give for answer, if my pleasure is to be consulted.”
“Luckily, there’s another person’s pleasure to be consulted here,” said the father, keeping his eyes fixed upon his daughter.
“Another cup of tea, aunt, if you please.”
“Then the sooner the better, I say,” continued her father; “for when a disagreeable thing is to be done—that is, when a thing that’s not quite agreeable to a young lady, such as marriage—” Dora took the cup of tea from her aunt’s hand, Harry not interfering—“I say,” persisted her father, “the sooner it’s done and over, the better.”
Dora saw that Ormond’s eyes were fixed upon her: she suddenly tasted, and suddenly started back from her scalding tea; Harry involuntarily uttered some exclamation of pity; she turned, and seeing his eyes still fixed upon her, said, “Very rude, sir, to stare at any one so.”
“I only thought you had scalded yourself.”
“Then you only thought wrong.”
“At any rate, there’s no great occasion to be angry with me, Dora.”