“Why not, my child?”
“Oh, because you have asked Mr. Iredale. Leslie says it isn’t right.”
Prudence was still looking in her lover’s direction. He had his back turned. He was more angry than ever now.
“My dears,” said her mother with an indulgent smile, “you are a pair of silly noodles. But Mr. Grey––I mean Leslie––must please himself. George Iredale is coming because I have asked him. This house is yours to come and go as you like––er––Leslie. George Iredale has promised to come to the cards to-night. Did I hear you say you were going now? I should have taken it homely if you would 63 have stayed to tea. The party begins at seven, don’t forget.”
Three pairs of quizzical eyes were fixed upon Grey’s good-looking but angry face. His anger was against Prudence entirely now. She had made him look foolish before these two ladies, and that was not easily to be forgiven. Grey’s lack of humour made him view things in a ponderous light. He felt most uncomfortable under the laughing gaze of those three ladies.
However, he would not give way an inch.
“Yes, I must go now,” he said ungraciously. “But not on account of George Iredale,” he added blunderingly. “I have some important work to do–––”
He was interrupted by a suppressed laugh from Prudence. He turned upon her suddenly, glared, then walked abruptly to the door.
“Good-bye,” he exclaimed shortly, and the door closed sharply behind him.
“Why, Prudence,” said Mrs. Malling, turning her round laughing face to her daughter and indicating the door. “Aren’t you–––”