Could it really be that she meant to leave his house in anger and to take her daughter with her?
Was it thus that he was to part with the one human being in the world that he loved?
He was a man who thought much of the duties of hospitality, feeling that a man in his own house was bound to exercise a courtesy towards his guests sweeter, softer, more gracious than the world required elsewhere.

And of all guests those of his own name were the best entitled to such courtesy at Carbury.

He held the place in trust for the use of others.

But if there were one among all others to whom the house should be a house of refuge from care, not an abode of trouble, on whose behalf, were it possible, he would make the very air softer, and the flowers sweeter than their wont, to whom he would declare, were such words possible to his tongue, that of him and of his house, and of all things there, she was the mistress, whether she would condescend to love him or no,--that one was his cousin Hetta.
And now he had been told by his guest that he had been so rough to her that she and her daughter must return to London! And he could not acquit himself.

He knew that he had been rough.