“We’ll see about that! Where is she?”
“My daughter is not well.”
“Well or ill, I shan’t keep her long.”
“My daughter has retired to her room.”
“Where is her room?”
Mrs. Presty moved to the fireplace, and laid her hand on the bell.
“Are you aware that this house is a hotel?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter to me what it is.”
“Oh yes, it does. A hotel keeps waiters. A hotel, when it is as large as this, has a policeman in attendance. Must I ring?”
The choice between giving way to Mrs. Presty, or being disgracefully dismissed, was placed plainly before him. Herbert’s life had been the life of a gentleman; he knew that he had forgotten himself; it was impossible that he could hesitate.