Suddenly the group on the other side of the room became aware that the Archdeacon's amiable prosing had been sharply interrupted--that Daphne, not he, was holding the field. A gust of talk arose--Daphne declaiming, the Archdeacon, after a first pause of astonishment, changing aspect and tone. French, looking across the room, saw the mask of conventional amiability stripped from what was really a strong and rather tyrannical face. The man's prominent mouth and long upper lip emerged. He drew his chair back from Daphne's; he tried once or twice to stop or argue with her, and finally he rose abruptly. "My dear!"--his wife turned hastily--"We must not detain Mrs. Barnes longer!" The two ladies looked at the Archdeacon--the god of their idolatry; then at Daphne. Hurriedly, like birds frightened by a shot, they crossed the room and just touched their hostess's hand; the Archdeacon, making up for their precipitancy by a double dose of dignity, bowed himself out; the door closed behind them. "Daphne!--my dear! what is the matter?" cried Lady Barnes, in dismay. "He spoke to me impertinently about my country!" said Daphne, turning upon her, her black eyes blazing, her cheeks white with excitement. "The Archdeacon!--he is always so polite!" "He talked like a fool--about things he doesn't understand!" was Daphne's curt reply, as she gathered up her hat and some letters, and moved towards the door. "About what? My dear Daphne! He could not possibly have meant to offend you! Could he, Mr. French?" Lady Barnes turned plaintively towards her very uncomfortable companions. Daphne confronted her. "If he chooses to think America immoral and degraded because American divorce laws are different from the English laws, let him think it!--but he has no business to air his views to an American--at a first visit, too!" said Daphne passionately, and, drawing herself up, she swept out of the room, leaving the others dumfoundered. "Oh dear! oh dear!" wailed Lady Barnes. "And the Archdeacon is so important! Daphne might have been rude to anybody else--but not the Archdeacon!" "How did they manage to get into such a subject--so quickly?" asked Elsie in bewilderment. "I suppose he took it for granted that Daphne agreed with him! All decent people do." Lady Barnes's wrath was evident--so was her indiscretion. Elsie French applied herself to soothing her, while Herbert French disappeared into the garden with a book. His wife, however, presently observed from the drawing-room that he was not reading. He was pacing the lawn, with his hands behind him, and his eyes on the grass. The slight, slowly-moving figure stood for meditation, and Elsie French knew enough to understand that the incidents of the afternoon might well supply any friend of Roger Barnes's with food for meditation. Herbert had not been in the drawing-room when Mrs. Fairmile was calling, but no doubt he had met her in the hall when she was on her way to her carriage.