Cathy chimed. ” She was frightened—his anger always did frighten her—and in her resolve to conceal her fright she carried a queen-like dignity to what she felt even at the time was a preposterous pitch. Rank ingratitude, I call it. He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, thinking intently. “And what is it all about, Veronica?” he asked, with a deliberate note of irony, looking at her a little quizzically over his glasses. A door led to the inner room; and it was evident from the peals of merriment, and other noises, that, ever and anon, resounded from within, that this chamber was occupied by the Marquis and his friends. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered.
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