Lucy was by this time very much annoyed. Her apologies had been frozen
at the front by his angry glare. She had no intention now of renewing
them, nor did she care to justify herself, as she might have done, by
pointing out that, while she was half-an-hour late, he was probably a
quarter of an hour too early. This would have been a safe venture, for
his fussiness over an appointment and tendency to be beforehand with
it were quite well known to himself. She kept the best face she could
upon the miserable affair, but was determined that she would force a
crisis at home, come what might.

Arrived at Onslow Square, James strode into the library and shut the
door behind him. When Crewdson was disposed of on his numerous
affairs, Lucy followed her lord. He turned, he stared, and waited for
her to speak.

Lucy said, "I think that you must be sorry that you have treated me
so. I feel it very much, and must ask you how you justify it."

James did his best to an easy calm. "Apologies should be in the air. I
should have looked for one myself an hour or so ago."

"You should have had it," she said, "if you had given me time. But you
stared me out of countenance the moment I came in. Anger before you
had even heard me is not a nice thing to face."

James turned pale. He used his most incisive tones. "I am ready to
hear your explanation. Perhaps I had better say that I know it."

Lucy showed him angry eyes. "If you know it, there is no need for me
to trouble you with it. You must also know that it isn't easy to get
away from a great crowd in a minute."

But he seemed not to hear her. He had another whip in waiting, which
nothing could have kept him from the use of. "I think that I must
trouble you, rather. I think I should be relieved by hearing from you
where the crowd was of which you were one--or two, indeed."

She discovered that he was white with rage, though she had never seen
him so before. "What do you mean, James?" she said--and he, "I know
that you were at the Flower Show. You were there with Lingen."

"Yes," said Lucy, "I was indeed. And why shouldn't I be?"

"I have told you before this what my views are about that. I don't
intend to repeat them, at present."

"I think you must be mad," said Lucy. "Do you mean to tell me that you
object to Francis Lingen to that extent--to the extent of such a scene
as this?"

He faced her from his height. "I do mean that."

"Then," she said, out of herself, "you are in