“They are probably for—commercial transactions, not for ladies,” she retorted. “We are notoriously fond of brimstone, if it is not too strong. A suspicion of it.”
Her colour was high, and she was surprised at her own vivacity. It seemed strange that she should be holding her own in this manner with the renowned Trixton Brent. No wonder, after four years of Rivington, that she tingled with an unwonted excitement.
At this point Mr. Brent's eye fell upon Howard, who was explaining something to Mrs. Trowbridge at the far end of the table.
“What's your husband like?” he demanded abruptly.
Honora was a little taken aback, but recovered sufficiently to retort: “You'd hardly expect me to give you an unprejudiced judgment.”
“That's true,” he agreed significantly.
“He's everything,” added Honora, “that is to be expected in a husband.”
“Which isn't much, in these days,” declared Mr. Brent.
“On the contrary,” said Honora.
“What I should like to know is why you came to Quicksands,” said Mr. Brent.