“I am glad you have come, Lilian,” said I, entering the room.
“But I have not come to stay,” she interposed, promptly.
“Then I am sorry you have come,” I added, as promptly.
“It is terrible, Paley, to think that my husband is prepared to desert me, and to advertise me in the newspapers,” said she.
“It is just as terrible for me to be deserted as for you, Lilian. I hope you will think well of it before it is too late.”
“I came over to see about this business, Mr. Glasswood,” interposed Mrs. Oliphant, stiffly.
“Nothing need be said, madam. I must add that I decline to discuss the question at all.”
“That’s a pretty way, sir!” continued she. “You married my daughter, and you promised—”
“I know I did, madam, and she promised, too. If she does not choose to occupy the house I have provided for her, that is the end of the whole matter; and also the end of all argument. I am going to Springhaven now. I have nothing more to say, except to add that when my wife returns to me I will treat her as tenderly as I know how, bury the past, and seek only her happiness.”
I moved towards the door. Lilian burst into tears. I saw her glance at her mother, who sat in dignified stiffness on the sofa.