“Last Tuesday week? Then you have been here ten days and not visited me until now!”

He appeared to be examining the whiteness of his hands through the folds of black lace that drooped over them.

“I believe I had other things to do,” he said coolly.

A book of sermons that she had been trying to peruse slid to the ground as Lavinia jerked a cushion into place.

“And you come to me when it suits you? How could you be so unkind as to refuse my invitation?”

There was a rising, querulous note in her voice which gave warning of anger.

“My dear Lavinia, if you exhibit your deplorable temper to me, I shall leave you, so have a care. I thought you would understand that your good husband’s society, improving though it may be, would be altogether too oppressive for my taste. In fact, I was surprised at your letter.”