“What have you got to do with the company I keep?”
“Nothing whatever, I am happy to say. I was merely wondering whether you have been traveling lately in the south part of Africa, and have lived exclusively in the society of Hottentots. The only other explanation of your behavior is that I have been so unfortunate as to offend you. But it seems improbable—I am not your wife.”
“Thank God for that!”
“Thank God, as you say. But I should really be glad (as a mere matter of curiosity) to know what your extraordinary conduct means. You present yourself in this room uninvited, you find a lady here, and you behave as if you had come into a shop and wanted to ask the price of something. Let me give you a lesson in good manners. Observe: I receive you with a bow, and I say: How do you do, Mr. Linley? Do you understand me?”
“I don’t want to understand you—I want to see Catherine.”
“Who is Catherine?”
“You know as well as I do—your daughter.”
“My daughter, sir, is a stranger to you. We will speak of her, if you please, by the name—the illustrious name—which she inherited at her birth. You wish to see Mrs. Norman?”
“Call her what you like. I have a word to say to her, and I mean to say it.”
“No, Mr. Linley, you won’t say it.”