Orange rang the bell, and the summons was answered by the footman, working himself into his coat, with unbuttoned waistcoat. He looked at Miss Trampleasure superciliously, and proceeded leisurely to button his waistcoat.
'Is Miss Bowdler at home?'
'I don't know.' Then, with a jerk, he brought a red hand through the sleeve.
'I asked if your mistress were in,' said Orange, with indignation.
'I ain't deaf—I heard,' replied the footman. 'I don't think she is what is called "At Home."'
'She is to be seen?'
'I can't take on myself to say that. You can stop in the 'all, and I'll go and inquire.'
Slowly, still buttoning himself, the serving man stalked away.
Orange's cheek flamed, and the tears mounted. This man had been all obsequiousness before the crash.
Suddenly a loud voice in her ear startled her.