“So have thousands of other women, but they manage to bear their cruel treatment and behave with better taste than Lady Francis.”
“What am I to say to her?” said Clitheroe, almost angrily. “She is waiting in the garden. I told her that you would call upon her this afternoon.”
“Then you took a very unwarrantable liberty,” said his sister. “I will not call upon her. I should advise you to tell her to send De Mürger away at once.”
“And then will you call upon her?” he asked eagerly.
“No, I won’t,” answered his sister. “I detest fuzzy-headed little women who get on well with any man except their husband. There will be an esclandre one day, and I don’t mean to be mixed up in it.”
“I had no idea you were so uncharitable,” he said, with genuine surprise.
“I am not the least uncharitable,” she said; “but you must admit that Lady Francis has everything against her.”
“Appearances may be against her,” he said doubtfully.
“And appearances in society count for everything,” said his sister. “If women wish to be original, and what you call reckless and impulsive, they must give up society, for you may be quite sure that they will meet with the cold shoulder wherever they go.”
“You have certainly shown it to Lady Francis,” he said bitterly.