"Not a word."
He sat down at her writing-table and stirred the litter with rapid, irritable hands. In two minutes he had gathered into a heap all the little notes of invitation. He then went round the room collecting the tickets and the cards and the telegrams. These he added to his heap.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"I am going," he said, "to destroy this hornets' nest you've raised about you."
He took it up, carrying it gingerly, as if it stung, and dropped it on the fire.
"George——" she cried, and sat looking at him as he stirred the pile to flame and beat down its ashes into the grate. She was paralyzed, fascinated by the bold splendour of his deed.
"There," he said. "Is there anything else I can do for you."
"Yes." She smiled. "You can tell me what I'm to say to my stepmother."
"Your stepmother?"
"She wants to know if I'll have Effy."