Lady Dunstable nodded and passed on.
The ten days flew.

Meadows, kept to it by Doris, was very busy preparing another lecture for publication in an English review.

Doris, meanwhile, got his clothes ready, and affected a uniformly cheerful and indifferent demeanour.

On Arthur's last evening at home, however, he came suddenly into the sitting-room, where Doris was sewing on some final buttons, and after fidgeting about a little, with occasional glances at his wife, he said abruptly: "I say, Doris, I won't go if you're going to take it like this." She turned upon him.
"Like what ?" "Oh, don't pretend!" was the impatient reply.

"You know very well that you hate my going to Scotland!" Doris, all on edge, and smarting under the too Jovian look and frown with which he surveyed her from the hearthrug, declared that, as it was not a case of her going to Scotland, but of his, she was entirely indifferent.