The drawing-room opened into the hall.

Dare led the way, suppressed fury in his face, looking back to see whether Mr.Alwynn was following him.

The two men went in together and shut the door.
The enemy was intrenched and prepared for action.
Mrs.Dare, as we must perforce call her for lack of any other designation rather than for any right of hers to the title, was seated on a yellow brocade ottoman, drawn up beside a roaring fire, her two smart little feet resting on the edge of the low brass fender, and a small work-table at her side, on which an elaborate medley of silks and wools was displayed.

Her attitude was that of a person at home, aggressively at home.

She was in the act of threading a needle when Dare and Mr.Alwynn came in, and she put down her work at once, carefully replacing the needle in safety, as she rose to receive them, and held out her hand, with a manner the assurance of which, if both men had not been too much frightened to notice it, was a little overdone.
Dare disregarded her gesture of welcome, and she sat down again, and returned to her work, with a laugh that was also a little overdone.
"What do you mean by coming here ?" he said, his voice hoarse with a furious anger, which the sight of her seemed to have increased a hundred-fold.
"Because it is my proper place," she replied, tossing her head, and drawing out a long thread of green silk; "because I have a right to come." "You lie!" said Dare, fiercely, showing his teeth.
"Lord, Alfred!" said Mrs.Dare, contemptuously, "don't make a scene before strangers.