Alan to feel at once happy and uncomfortable. Apparently also it caused
Aylward to feel angry, for he flashed a glance at Alan over her head of
which the purport could not be mistaken, though his pale face remained
as immovable as ever. "We are enemies. I hate you," said that glance.
Probably Barbara saw it; at any rate before either of them could speak
again, she said:

"Thank goodness, there is dinner at last. Sir Robert, will you take me
in, and, Alan, will you sit on the other side of me? My uncle will show
the rest their places."

The meal was long and magnificent; the price of each dish of it would
have kept a poor family for a month, and on the cost of the exquisite
wines they might have lived for a year or two. Also the last were well
patronized by everyone except Barbara, who drank water, and Alan, who
since his severe fever took nothing but weak whiskey and soda and a
little claret. Even Aylward, a temperate person, absorbed a good deal
of champagne. As a consequence the conversation grew animated, and under
cover of it, while Sir Robert was arguing with his neighbour on the
left, Barbara asked in a low voice:

"What is the row, Alan? Tell me, I can't wait any longer."

"I have quarrelled with them," he answered, staring at his mutton as
though he were criticizing it. "I mean, I have left the firm and have
nothing more to do with the business."

Barbara's eyes lit up as she whispered back:

"Glad of it. Best news I have heard for many a day. But then, may I ask