Lionel was silent.
"Shall you fight him?"
"Fight him!" echoed Lionel. "No."
"You will give up Verner's Pride without a struggle! You will give up me! Then, are you a coward, Lionel Verner?"
"You know that I would give up neither willingly, Sibylla."
Grievously pained was his tone as he replied to her. She was meeting this as she did most other things—without sense or reason; not as a thinking, rational being. Her manner was loud, her emotion violent; but deep and true her grief was not. Depth of feeling, truth of nature, were qualities that never yet had place in Sibylla Verner. Not once, throughout all their married life, had Lionel been so painfully impressed with the fact as he was now.
"Am I to die for the want of that water?" she resumed. "If you don't get it for me I shall ring for the servants to bring it."
He opened the door again without a word. He knew quite well that she had thrown in that little shaft about ringing for the servants, because it would not be pleasant to him that the servants should intrude upon them then. Outside the door, about to knock at it, was Deborah West.
"I must go home," she whispered. "Mr. Verner, how sadly she is meeting this!"
The very thought that was in Lionel's heart. But not to another would he cast a shade of reflection on his wife.