"Kitty, you would be doing a thing perfectly unheard of—most rude—most unkind!"
The stiff, slight figure, like a strained wand, did not waver for a moment before the grave indignation of the older woman.
"I should for once be paying off a score that has run on too long."
"You and Lady Parham had agreed to make friends, and let bygones be bygones."
"That was before last week."
"Before Lord Parham said—what annoyed you?"
Kitty's eyes flamed.
"Before Lord Parham humiliated me in public—or tried to."
"Dear Kitty, he was annoyed, and said a sharp thing; but he is an old man, and for William's sake, surely, you can forgive it. And Lady Parham had nothing to do with it."
"She has not written to me to apologize," said Kitty, with a most venomous calm. "Don't talk about it, mother. It will hurt you, and I am determined. Lady Parham has patronized or snubbed me ever since I married—when she hasn't been setting my best friends against me. She is false, false, false!" Kitty struck her hands together with an emphatic gesture. "And Lord Parham said a thing to me last week I shall never forgive. Voilà! Now I mean to have done with it!"