"I cannot dissimulate; I never dissimulated; I never did anything so mean!" said Georgia, passionately.
"There is no meanness about it, Mrs. Wildair, and you might have spared the insinuation that I could urge you to do anything mean. Common politeness requires that you should be courteous to all, and I hope you will not mortify me again by any public display of your likes and dislikes."
Georgia arose impetuously from the table, and, with a burning cheek and flashing eye, walked to the window. What words can tell of the storm raging within her wild, proud heart, as she listened to his authoritative tone and words?
"It is necessary, too, that you should by degrees grow accustomed to what you call your strange position," he calmly went on, "before you enter the fashionable world at Washington, where you will make what you may call your debut. For that reason, while in New York, I invited a party of friends here to spend Christmas and New Year's, and you may expect them here now in less than a week."
She faced round as if her feet were furnished with steel springs, every feeling of rebellion roused into life at last.
"You did? And without consulting me?"
"Certainly, my dear. Have I not a right to ask my friends to my house?"
She laid her hand on her breast, as if to keep the storm within from breaking forth; but he saw it in the workings of her face.
"Come, Georgia, be reasonable," he said quietly. "I am sorry this annoys you, but it is absolutely necessary. Why, one would think, by your looks and actions, I was some monstrous tyrant, instead of a husband who loves you so well that he is willing to sacrifice his own fondness for solitude and quiet, that you may acquire the habits of good society."
She did not speak. His words had wounded her pride too deeply to be healed by his gentle tone.