If she had not been such an old lady, and if she had not talked so rapidly, he might have shown this resentment.

But he had not done so, and now the more he thought about it, the stronger the feeling grew.
As for Cicely Drane, she was a great deal more quiet during the drive home, than she had been when going to Thorbury.

Her mind was in an unsatisfactory condition, and this had been occasioned by an interview with La Fleur, who had waylaid her in the hall as she came out of the doctor's office.
The good cook had been in a state of enthusiastic delight, since, looking out of the kitchen window where she had been sitting, with a manuscript book of recipes in her lap, planning the luncheon and dinner, she had seen the lord of Cobhurst drive up to the gate with dear Miss Cicely.

It was a joy like that of listening to a party of dinner guests, who were eating her favorite ice.

With intense impatience she had awaited the appearance of Cicely from the doctor's office; and, having drawn her to one side, she hastily imparted her sentiments.
"It's a shabby gig, Miss Cicely," she said, "such as the farmers use in the old country, but it's his own, and not hired, and the big house is his own, and all the broad acres.