"Not so very, I'm afraid," she answered with a rueful shake of the head; "for just hark how it is storming still!"
"Yes; but it may be all over by morning. How weary you look, love! Get to bed as fast as you can. You should not have waited for the conclusion of that long game, that, I know, did not interest you."
"I was interested for your sake," she said, "and so glad to see you win."
"Wife-like," he returned with a smile, adding, "It was a very close game, and you needn't be surprised to see me beaten in the next battle."
"I'm afraid she will stay for that, even if the storm is over," sighed Zoe. "Dear me! I don't see how anybody can have the face to stay where she is self-invited, and must know she isn't a welcome guest to the lady of the house. I'd go through any storm rather than prolong a visit under such circumstances."
"You would never have put yourself in such a position," Edward said. "But I wish you could manage to treat her with a little more cordiality. I should feel more comfortable. I could not avoid bringing her here, as you know; nor can I send her away in such inclement weather, or, indeed, at all, till she offers to go; and your want of courtesy toward her—to put it mildly—is a constant mortification to me."
"Why don't you say at once that you are ashamed of me?" she exclaimed, tears starting to her eyes again, as with a determined effort she freed herself from his grasp, and moved away to the farther side of the room.
"I am usually very proud of you," he answered in a quiet tone; "but this woman seems to exert a strangely malign influence over you."
To that, Zoe made no response; she could not trust herself to speak; so prepared for bed, and laid herself down there in silence, wiped away a tear or two, and presently fell asleep.
Morning brought no abatement of the storm, and consequently no relief to
Zoe from the annoyance of Miss Deane's presence in the house.