"
"She has not forgiven us for getting married so quietly," he went on.
"We had better go back to London and make our peace with her. Don't you
want to see the house my aunt left me at Highgate?"
Stella sighed. The society of the man she loved was society enough
for her. Was he getting tired of his wife already? "I will go with you
wherever you like." She said those words in tones of sad submission, and
gently got up from his knee.
He rose also, and took from the sofa the letter which he had thrown on
it. "Let us see what our friends say," he resumed. "The address is in
Loring's handwriting."
As he approached the table on which the lamp was burning, she noticed
that he moved with a languor that was new in her experience of him. He
sat down and opened the letter. She watched him with an anxiety which
had now become intensified to suspicion. The shade of the lamp still
prevented her from seeing his face plainly. "Just what I told you," he
said; "the Lorings want to know when they are to see us in London; and
your mother says she 'feels like that character in Shakespeare who was
cut by his own daughters.
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