Some very heated discussion was in progress, and meanwhile the door of the study was open⁠—an unprecedented circumstance. As I approached the portals I could hear loud voices raised, for mingled with the pert, venomous accents of De Griers were Mlle. Blanche’s excited, impudently abusive tongue and the General’s plaintive wail as, apparently, he sought to justify himself in something. But on my appearance everyone stopped speaking, and tried to put a better face upon matters. De Griers smoothed his hair, and twisted his angry face into a smile⁠—into the mean, studiedly polite French smile which I so detested; while the downcast, perplexed General assumed an air of dignity⁠—though only in a mechanical way. On the other hand, Mlle. Blanche did not trouble to conceal the wrath that was sparkling in her countenance, but bent her gaze upon me with an air of impatient expectancy. I may remark that hitherto she had treated me with absolute superciliousness, and, so far from answering my salutations, had always ignored them.