The seriousness with which the young woman spoke for a moment betrayed Delancy into discussing business with one of the unintelligent sex.
"But his contracts!" he objected.
"What are contracts," Cicily interrupted serenely, "when the workmen are hungry?"
"There, Emma!" Delancy cried, in deep disgust. "Do you hear? Now, isn't that just like a woman?"
"Yes, James," Mrs. Delancy answered meekly; "I know that you're right. But, somehow, I think Cicily, too, is right."
At this paradoxical pronouncement, Delancy stared fixedly at his wife in stark amazement.
"What!" he gasped. "What! After forty years, you say that to me! You question my business judgment! Emma, you, my wife!" He struggled wildly for a few seconds to gain control of his emotions. "No," he continued bitterly; "I deserve it for forgetting myself. I beg my own pardon for mentioning a word of business to a woman.... I'm going to Charles—poor fellow!" After a long, resentful stare directed against his former ward, he marched out of the room.
"See what you've made me do!" Mrs. Delancy said accusingly to her niece, as the two were left alone together. "Why, I've actually appeared rebellious to James."
"You ought to have been so years ago," Cicily rejoined, stubbornly.
But Mrs. Delancy could only shake her head morosely in negation of this audacious idea. Then, her thoughts reverted to the young woman's doubtful position.