A smouldering resentment began to burn within her.

What right had he to treat Hugh's friendship with her as a thing to be ashamed of?
She longed to ask him, but would not risk an open rupture.

She knew that if she gave her indignation rein she would not be able to control it.
So the matter passed, and she slipped Hugh's note into her bosom with a sense of outraged pride that went with her throughout the day.

It was still present with her like an evil spirit when she went to her room to dress.
She had not much time at her disposal, and she slipped into her black evening gown with a passing wonder as to how Jeff's friends would be attired.

Descending again, she found Jim Dawlish fixing a piece of mistletoe over the parlour door, and smiled at his occupation.
He smiled at her in a fashion that sent the blood suddenly and hotly to her face, and she passed on to the kitchen, erect and quivering with anger.
"Lor', my dearie, what a pretty picture you be, to be sure!" was Granny Grimshaw's greeting, and again a tremor of misgiving went through the girl's heart.