“I have held no communication with him,” said Lady Laura, advancing a step towards him.  But Mr. Kennedy simply pointed to the telegram in her hand, and left the room.  Now in respect to this telegram there had been an unfortunate mistake.  I am not prepared to say that there was any reason why Phineas himself should not have sent the news of his success to Lady Laura; but he had not done so.  The piece of paper which she still held crushed in her hand was in itself very innocent.  “Hurrah for the Loughshanes.  Finny has done the trick.”  Such were the words written on the slip, and they had been sent to Lady Laura by her young cousin, the clerk in the office who acted as private secretary to the Under-Secretary of State.  Lady Laura resolved that her husband should never see those innocent but rather undignified words.  The occasion had become one of importance, and such words were unworthy of it.  Besides, she would not condescend to defend herself by bringing forward a telegram as evidence in her favour.  So she burned the morsel of paper.

Lady Laura and Mr. Kennedy did not meet again till late that evening.  She was ill, she said, and would not come down to dinner.  After dinner she wrote him a note.  “Dear Robert, I think you must regret what you said to me.  If so, pray let me have a line from you to that effect.  Yours affectionately, L.”  When the servant handed it to him, and he had read it, he smiled and thanked the girl who had brought it, and said he would see her mistress just now.  Anything would be better than that the servants should know that there was a quarrel.  But every servant in the house had known all about it for the last three hours.  When the door was closed and he was alone, he sat fingering the note, thinking deeply how he should answer it, or whether he would answer it at all.  No; he would not answer it;—­not in writing.  He would give his wife no written record of his humiliation.  He had not acted wrongly.  He had said nothing more than now, upon mature consideration, he thought that the circumstances demanded.  But yet he felt that he must in some sort withdraw the accusation which he had made.  If he did not withdraw it, there was no knowing what his wife might do.  About ten in the evening he went up to her and made his little speech.  “My dear, I have come to answer your note.”

“I thought you would have written to me a line.”

“I have come instead, Laura.  Now, if you will listen to me for one moment, I think everything will be made smooth.”

“Of course I will listen,” said Lady Laura, knowing very well that her husband’s moment would be rather tedious, and resolving that she also would have her moment afterwards.

“I think you will acknowledge that if there be a difference of opinion between you and me as to any question of social intercourse, it will be better that you should consent to adopt my opinion.”

“You have the law on your side.”