“Really, Harry, I must say you are most unkind and inconsiderate; you chose of your own accord to accept the invitation to Allerton House, though I warned you at the time that it would necessitate your calling on the Duke and Duchess first: you agreed--in fact, you promised to do so. There has not been a day since that I haven’t reminded you of this promise, so it is impossible you can have forgotten it;--there was a time, and not so very long ago either, when you were ready enough to go anywhere with me, and were only too glad to find I wished you to do so. I little thought, poor foolish girl that I was, how soon things would alter; and now, when you knew as well as I did that this is the last day on which we can pay this visit, you’ve formed some stupid engagement (to go and shoot somewhere, I dare say; I wish guns had never been invented--horrid dangerous things--always going off unexpectedly and killing people), and so made it impossible to return the Duchess’s call: and tomorrow I shall be ashamed to look her in the face, or to speak to her; though I dare say she won’t give me a chance to do that, for she is as proud as Lu------ as a woman can be.” Here, from sheer want of breath, Alice being forced to pause, Harry quietly remarked: “Women can be as proud as men for that matter, _ecce signum_, but now just listen to a little common sense for a minute. I fully intended and wished to accompany you, but I happened yesterday, at H--------, to meet with a very old friend of mine, who informed me that he was going this morning to transact certain business matters which would involve the expenditure of a considerable sum of money, in regard to which affair he particularly required my advice and opinion.” “He must be going to buy a gun or a horse then,” interrupted Alice; “those are the only things people imagine you understand; and I don’t wonder at them either, when they see you waste half your life about this horrid sporting. If you give up all intellectual pursuits in this way, you’ll go on till you become fit for nothing but to hunt, shoot, eat, drink, and sleep, like that dreadful old creature, Colonel Crossman.” Thoroughly provoked by this last speech (which touched on a sensitive point in Harry’s disposition, and aroused a latent fear, by which he was always more or less oppressed, lest people should consider him, from his fondness for field sports, a mere addlepated, fox-hunting squire), he replied, with more asperity in his tone than he had ever before used, or believed it possible he could use, towards Alice, “Take care you don’t become a peevish shrew, like Mrs. Crossman. You are angry, and forget yourself; when you grow calm again, you will perceive how foolish and unreasonable you have been to lose your temper about such a silly trifle.” “You think being rude to your friends and unkind to your wife a silly trifle, do you?” inquired Alice.