“You are impertinent,” he said angrily.
“This is a long room, and we are some distance from the fireplace,” said Judy in velvet tones, “yet if you raise your voice our two darlings yonder will hear what you are saying.”
Mr. Armour gave her an annoyed glance.
“It isn’t worth your while to quarrel with me,” said Judy smoothly, “the only person in the house that can get on with you. And what have I done? Merely hinted that a charming girl of twenty-one would have done a pretty thing to sacrifice herself to an old bachelor of forty. You ought to feel flattered.”
“I don’t,” he returned sullenly.
“No; because you are a—a—because you are foolish. You ought to feel willing to pay six thousand dollars a year to some one who would make you laugh.”
“What has that to do with Miss Delavigne?” he said.
“Why she amuses you—can’t you see it?—you, a regular grum-growdy of a man, with care sitting forever on your brow.”
“Judy,” he said, “your chatter wearies me.”
“I daresay,” she replied; “it shows you ought to have more of it. You’ll probably go mad some day from business worries.”