e, and yet he must, in
some way, let his persecuting friend know that no further invitation
would be of any use;--that there was something beyond mere chance
in his not going to Grosvenor Place. But how was he to do this? The
difficulty was so great that he could not see his way out of it. So
he sat silent with a solemn face. Mr. Kennedy then asked him another
question, which made the difficulty ten times greater. "Has my wife
asked you not to come to our house?"

It was necessary now that he should make a rush and get out of his
trouble in some way. "To tell you the truth, Kennedy, I don't think
she wants to see me there."

"That does not answer my question. Has she asked you not to come?"

"She said that which left on my mind an impression that she would
sooner that I did not come."

"What did she say?"

"How can I answer such a question as that, Kennedy? Is it fair to ask
it?"

"Quite fair,--I think."

"I think it quite unfair, and I must decline to answer it. I cannot
imagine what you expect to gain by cross-questioning me in this way.
Of course no man likes to go to a house if he does not believe that
everybody there will make him welcome."

"You and Lady Laura used to be great friends."

"I hope we are not enemies now. But things will occur that cause
friendships to grow cool."

"Have you quarrelled with her father?"

"With Lord Brentford?--no."

"Or with her brother,--since the duel I mean?"

"Upon my word and honour I cannot stand this, and I will not. I have
not as yet quarrelled with anybody; but I must quarrel with you, if
you go on in this way. It is quite unusual that a man should be put
through his facings after such a fashion, and I must beg that there
may be an end of it."

"Then I must ask Lady Laura."

"You can say what you like to your own wife of course. I cannot
hinder you."

Upon that Mr. Kennedy formally shook hands with him, in token that
there was no positive breach between them,--as two nations may still
maintain their alliance, though they have made up their minds to hate
each other, and thwart each other at every turn,--and took his leave.
Phineas, as he sat at his window, looking out into the park, and
thinking of what had passed, could not but reflect that, disagreeable
as Mr. Kennedy had been to him, he would probably make himself much
more disagreeable to his wife. And, for himself, he thought that he
had got out of the scrape very well by the exhibition of a little