Mary’s face flushed.
“I did not mean to be changeable or to vex you, dear Mrs Greville,” she began, “only—”
“Only what?”
Mary had left her seat and come over to where Mrs Greville was standing.
“It is a very silly reason I was going to give,” she said in a low voice, trying to smile. “You remember my saying before how very much I dislike that Mr Cheviott.”
Mrs Greville could not help laughing.
“Is that all?” she said. “Come now, Mary, I had no idea you could be so silly. I have always looked upon you as such a model of good sense. I began to think there must be some mystery you had not explained to me about Lilias’s affairs, of course, I mean,” she added, in a whisper, glancing at Mary with re-awakened curiosity in her eyes.
Mary kept her countenance.
“It is just as I said,” she replied. “I can’t give you any better reason for not wanting to go than my dislike to that man.”
“Very well, then, you must come. That might prevent your liking to see him; it need not prevent your liking to see his house. Your not coming would quite spoil our pleasure.”