Richard was talking of the great heat of the past summer.

I had said it had been unparalleled in France; had he not found it very uncomfortable here in town?
"I have been out of town so much, I can hardly say how it has been here," he answered.

"I was all of August in the country; only coming to the city twice." My heart sank: that was just what they had said; he had been a great deal at home this summer, and she had been there all the time.
The dinner was becoming terribly _ennuyant_, and I wished with all my heart Throckmorton had been contented with just half the courses.
Richard did not seem to enjoy them, and I--I was so wretched I could scarcely say a word, much less eat a morsel.

It had been a great mistake to invite him to take dinner; it was being too familiar, when he had put me at such a distance all these years: I wished for Mrs.
Throckmorton with all my heart.

Why had I sent her off?
Richard was evidently so constrained, and it was in such bad taste to have asked him here; it could not help putting thoughts in both our minds, sitting alone at a table opposite each other, as we should have been sitting daily if that horrid will had not been found.