She stopped, almost choked by her own passion. But the incident, after all, was only the spark to the mine.
Lady Winterbourne stared at her helplessly.
"Perhaps it isn't true," she suggested. "The newspapers put in so many lies, especially about us—the landlords. Edward says one ought never to believe them. Ah, here comes Aldous."
Aldous, indeed, with some perplexity on his brow, was to be seen approaching, looking for his betrothed. Marcella dropped her fan and sat erect, her angry colour fading into whiteness.
"My darling! I couldn't think what had become of you. May I bring Lord Wandle and introduce him to you? He is an old friend here, and my godfather. Not that I am particularly proud of the relationship," he said, dropping his voice as he stooped over her. "He is a soured, disagreeable fellow, and I hate many of the things he does. But it is an old tie, and my grandfather is tender of such things. Only a word or two; then I will get rid of him."
"Aldous, I can't," said Marcella, looking up at him. "How could I? I saw that case. I must be rude to him."
Aldous looked considerably disturbed.
"It was very bad," he said slowly. "I didn't know you had seen it. What shall I do? I promised to go back for him."
"Lord Wandle—Miss Boyce!" said Miss Raeburn's sharp little voice behind Aldous. Aldous, moving aside in hasty dismay, saw his aunt, looking very determined, presenting her tall neighbour, who bowed with old-fashioned deference to the girl on the sofa.
Lady Winterbourne looked with trepidation at Marcella. But the social instinct held, to some extent. Ninety-nine women can threaten a scene of the kind Lady Winterbourne dreaded, for one that can carry it through. Marcella wavered; then, with her most forbidding air, she made a scarcely perceptible return of Lord Wandle's bow.