Mr. and Mrs. Wildair bade their last guest good-night, and then they were alone in the drawing-room.
Georgia sank down on a sofa, dreading even to look at him; and Richmond, his courteous smile totally gone and his face grave and stern, stood with his elbow leaning on the marble mantel, looking down on her with a stern, steady gaze.
"Mrs. Wildair!" he said, coldly.
"Oh, Richmond!" she cried, passionately.
"Well, this a delightful beginning, I must say," he observed, calmly. "Are you aware, madam, that you made both yourself and me ridiculous to-night?"
"Oh, Richmond, I could not help it! Oh, Richmond, I felt as if I should go mad!"
"It would not take much to convince our friends that you are that already, my dear. May I ask if it was Fredrica's simple and natural request that you would play for the company, that came so near driving you mad? I saw you drop her hand as if there were contamination in the touch."
"Oh, so there is! so there is!" she cried, in frenzied tones.
"Really, madam," said Mr. Wildair, in a tone of marked displeasure, "this is carrying your absurdity too far. Take care that I do not begin to believe you mad, as well as the rest. Are you aware that you grossly insulted my cousin before my guests this evening?"
"She insulted me!—the low, fawning hypocrite! Oh, that I should be obliged to live under the same roof with that thing!" exclaimed Georgia, wildly, wringing her hands.