Then there came a tapping on the outer panels of the door.
“Come in,” shouted Mr. Verinder furiously.
It was the butler; and Mr. Verinder swore at him roundly. For the first time in his life he swore at a servant, and with ladies present.
“Damn you, you fool, what do you mean by knocking at the door. Why did you do it?”
The butler said he thought they were talking business, and was loth to disturb them. But he wished to know about the dinner.
To Mr. Verinder that tap had been symbolic; it seemed to imply the end of keeping up pretences. It was this thought that made him swear.
“Dinner! Yes, at once”; and he looked at his watch. “Eight-fifteen!”
They sat down to dinner and Emmeline joined them. Sherry was poured out for Mr. Verinder to drink with his soup; he could smell, before it came in, the shrimp sauce that was to go with the turbot; there was general conversation—about the weather and politics, just as usual.
What had happened had happened; yet there they were. In appearance at least, the world was going round at the same pace. The Albert Hall still stood on the old site.
During the course of the evening Emmeline told them that it would be wiser for them to let her go away altogether; and she was unshaken by the storm that both parents launched. She said she was very sorry; she knew they must hate her now; it would be better for everybody if they parted. What amazed them most was her courage. It was as though she drew all this new strength and character from the man. In their distress and confusion they told her so.