Surely she must know that no man with any spirit would put up with such treatment as this--to be spoken to as though he had been an impudent stranger bursting into her room! Then his tempestuous thoughts went back to Mimo, that foreign man whom he had seen under her window.

What if, after all, he was her lover and that accounted for the reason she resented his--Tristram's--desire to caress?
And all the proud, obstinate fighting blood of the Guiscards got up in him.

He would not be made a cat's-paw.

If she exasperated him further he would forget about being a gentleman, and act as a savage man, and seize her in his arms and punish her for her haughtiness! So it was his blue eyes which were blazing with resentment this time, and not her pools of ink.
Thus they sat down to dinner in silence--much to the waiters' surprise and disgust.
Zara felt almost glad her husband looked angry.

He would then of his own accord leave her in peace.
As the soup and fish came and went they exchanged no word, and then that breeding that they both had made them realize the situation was impossible, and they said some ordinary things while the waiters were in the room.
The table was a small round one with the two places set at right angles, and very close.
It was the first occasion upon which Zara had ever been so near Tristram, and every time she looked up she was obliged to see his face.
She could not help owning to herself, that he was extraordinarily distinguished looking, and that there were strong, noble lines in his whole shape.
At the end of their repast, for different reasons, neither of the two felt calm.