Mr.Boyce, who was standing in front of the fire, unconsciously making the most of his own inadequate height and size, looked angrily at his stately daughter.

She had not appeared at dinner, and she was now dressed in the long black cloak and black hat she had worn so constantly in the last few weeks.
Mr.Boyce detested the garb.
"You are making yourself _ridiculous_, Marcella.

Pity for these wretched people is all very well, but you have no business to carry it to such a point that you--and we--become the talk, the laughing-stock of the county.

And I should like to see you, too, pay some attention to Aldous Raeburn's feelings and wishes." The admonition, in her father's mouth, would almost have made her laugh, if she could have laughed at anything.

But, instead, she only repeated: "I must go, I have explained to mamma." "Evelyn! why do you permit it ?" cried Mr.Boyce, turning aggressively to his wife.
"Marcella explained to me, as she truly said," replied Mrs.Boyce, looking up calmly.