Letter and headache notwithstanding, he would have joined the ladies at dinner but for the presence of their guest.

An inexplicable irritation all at once possessed him; a grotesque resentment of Miss Derwent's arrival.
Why should she have come just when he wanted to work harder than ever?
That was how things happened--the perversity of circumstance! She would be at every meal for at least a week; he must needs talk with her, look at her, think about her.

His annoyance became so acute that he tramped nervously about the floor, muttering maledictions.
It passed.

A cup of tea brought him to his right mind, and he no longer saw the event in such exaggerated colours.

But he was glad of his decision to spend the evening alone.
His father's letter had come at the right moment; in some degree it allayed the worry caused by his brother Daniel's talk this morning.
Jerome Otway wrote, as usual, briefly, on the large letter-paper he always used; his bold hand, full of a certain character, demanded space.