Lady Tranmore breathed fast.
"William will not expect me to put up with insults," said Kitty, also beginning to show emotion.
"But can't you see that—just now especially—you ought to think of nothing—nothing but William's future and William's career?"
"William will never purchase his career at my expense."
"Kitty dear, listen," cried Lady Tranmore in despair, and she threw herself into arguments and appeals, to which Kitty listened quite unmoved for some twenty minutes. Margaret French, feeling herself an uncomfortable third, tried several times to steal away. In vain. Kitty's peremptory hand retained her. She could not escape, much as she wished it, from the wrestle between the two women;—on the one side the mother, noble, already touched with age, full of dignity and protesting affection,—on the other the wife, still little more than a child in years, vibrating through all her slender frame with passion and insolence, more beautiful than usual by virtue of the very fire which possessed her,—a Mænad at bay.
Lady Tranmore had just begun to waver in a final despair, when the door opened and William Ashe entered.
He looked in astonishment at his mother and wife. Then in a flash he understood, and with an involuntary gesture of fatigue, he turned to go.
"William!" cried his mother, hurrying after him,—"don't go. Kitty and I were disputing; but it is nothing, dear! Don't go; you look so tired. Can you stay for dinner?"
"Well, that was my intention," said Ashe with a smile, as he allowed himself to be brought back. "But Kitty seems in the clouds."
For Kitty had not moved an inch to greet him. She sat in a high-backed chair, one foot crossed over the other, one hand supporting her cheek, looking straight before her with shining eyes.
Lady Tranmore laid a hand on her shoulder.
"We won't talk any more about it now, Kitty, will we?"
Kitty's lips opened enough to emit the words,—
"Perhaps William had better understand—"
"Goodness!" cried Ashe. "Is it the Parhams? Send them, Kitty, if you please, to ten thousand diables! You won't go to their dinner? Well, don't go! Please yourself—and hang the expense! Come and give me some dinner—there's a dear."
He bent over her and kissed her hair.
Lady Tranmore began to speak, then with a mighty effort restrained herself and began to look for her parasol. Kitty did not move. Lady Tranmore said a muffled good-by and went. And this time Margaret French insisted on going with her.
When Ashe returned to the drawing-room, he found his wife still in the same position, very pale and very wild.
"I have told your mother, William, what I intend to do about the Parhams."
"Very well, dear. Now she knows."
"She says it will ruin your career."
"Did she? We'll talk about that presently. We have had a nasty scene in the House with the Irishmen, and I'm famished. Go and change, there's a dear. Dinner's just coming in."
Kitty went reluctantly. She came down in a white flowing garment, with a small green wreath in her hair, which, together with the air of storm which still enwrapped her, made her more Mænad-like than ever. Ashe took no notice, gave her a laughing account of what had passed in the House, and ate his dinner.
Afterwards, when they were alone, and he was just about to return to the House, she made a swift rush across the dining-room, and caught his coat with both hands.
"William, I can't go to that dinner—it would kill me!"
"How you repeat yourself, darling!" he said with a smile. "I suppose you'll give Lady Parham decent notice. What 'll you do? Get a doctor's certificate and go away?"
Kitty panted. "Not at all. I shall not tell her till an hour before."
Ashe whistled.
"War?—I see. Open war. Very well. Then we shall get to Venice for Easter."
Kitty fell back.
"What do you mean?"
"Very plain, isn't it? But what does it matter? Venice will be delightful,
