The bishop greeted the crowd in the most courteous manner. He shook hands with those he knew, and bowed to those he hoped to know.
"I think, gentleman, that, with your permission, I will go in first and see Lady Penelope before any one else does."
And while he went up the carriage drive, Titania glared at the lovers.
"Don't look at 'em like that, Titania," said Augustin.
"Like what, Augustin?"
"Like a Gorgon, Titania," said Augustin.
"I look as I feel," said Titania. "I hate them all. I shall not be able to restrain myself when I see Penelope. I shall shake her. I shall say what I think. No, I won't be wise, Augustin! I decline to be wise. I am full of bitterness. From her earliest youth, she has been a thorn. And it is your fault; you encouraged her in reform, in anarchism. Don't speak to me! I shall explode!"
And Augustin got out just as the bishop rang the door-bell across the moat. Instead of the kind of servant he expected to see, he was greeted by a bent old woman, whose chief glory was her rheumatism, though her claim on Bob had been her stupidity.
"Is Mrs. Bramwell at home?" asked the bishop, with a beaming smile.
"Naw," said the old lady, not beaming in the least.