you were rather rude." The sting of this accusation lay in the fact that there was a certain amount of truth in it; yet for a moment Mrs. Headway, looking very blank, failed to recognize the allusion. "She 's a barbarian, after all," thought Waterville. "She thinks a woman may slap a man's face and run away!"
"Oh!" cried Mrs. Headway, suddenly, "I remember, I was angry with you; I did n't expect to see you. But I did n't really care about it at all. Every now and then I am angry, like that, and I work it off on any one that 's handy. But it 's over in three minutes, and I never think of it again. I was angry last night; I was furious with the old woman."
"With the old woman?"
"With Sir Arthur's mother. She has no business here, any way. In this country, when the husband dies, they 're expected to clear out. She has a house of her own, ten miles from here, and she has another in Portman Square; so she 's got plenty of places to live. But she sticks—she sticks to him like a plaster. All of a sudden it came over me that she didn't invite me here because she liked me, but because she suspects me. She 's afraid we 'll make a match, and she thinks I ain't good enough for her son. She must think I 'm in a great hurry to get hold of him. I never went after him, he came after me. I should never have thought of anything if it had n't been for him. He began it last summer at Homburg; he wanted to know why I did n't come to England;
