CHAPTER XIV
[THE LADY ENDEAVOURS TO EXPLAIN]
"Sounds like the last words of a funeral sermon," muttered Mr. Ely, directly the door was closed.
"It does sound a little that way, doesn't it?"
Then the two were still.
Mr. Ely took up the position in front of the fireplace which had been occupied by Mr. Ash; Miss Truscott seated herself by a five-o'clock tea-table, and pensively regarded so much of her toes as she permitted to peep from under the hem of her dress. A considerable pause ensued. Possibly Mr. Ely was endeavouring to find words with which to clothe his thoughts.
"This is like a Quaker's meeting," murmured the lady.
Mr. Ely started. But he checked the retort which rose to his lips, and continued his reflections. At last he spoke. The words issued from his lips with excessive deliberation, as though he weighed each one to be quite sure it was of proper weight.
"Miss Truscott, the exigencies of modern civilisation compel from man a chivalrous attitude towards the weaker sex."
She looked up at the first sound of his voice--and he immediately wished she would look down again.