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"Darling, do you need an answer?" "I didn't think it was in you," declares Mr. Darling, with wild but suppressed admiration. "You would make your fortune on the stage. Keep it up, I tell you; it couldn't be better." Sir Nicholas is there, silent, but angry, as Violet knows by the frown upon his brow. With his mother he never quarrels, merely expressing disapproval by such signs as an unwillingness to speak, and a stern grave line that grows upon his lips..
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"Don't you think, sir, you would like to get ready for dinner?" says Geoffrey, with mock severity. "You can continue your attentions to my wife later on,—at your peril." "He may; but how little in comparison! Nobody need be thought of but my poor Nicholas," persists Doatie, who has not read between the lines, and fails therefore in putting a proper construction upon the faint delicate blush that is warming Violet's cheek. "I don't understand you," says Geoffrey, still rather hotly. He follows her, full of remorse and contrition. Her glance, even more than her words, has covered him with shame, and cured him of his want of generosity..
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