And his anger mounted.

"How very good of you," she said. "My uncle could not think
where he had mislaid it."

"I am very fortunate to be the means of restoring it," said he.

Then, after a second's suspension, as she said nothing (she
kept her eyes on the snuffbox, examining it as if it were quite
new to her), he lifted his hat, and bowed, preparatory to
retiring down the avenue.

"Oh, but my uncle will wish to thank you," she exclaimed,
looking up, with a kind of start. "Will you not come in? I--I
will see whether he is disengaged."

She made a tentative movement towards the door. She had thawed
perceptibly.

But even as she thawed, Peter, in his anger, froze and
stiffened. "I will see whether he is disengaged." The
expression grated. And perhaps, in effect, it was not a
particularly felicitous expression. But if the poor woman was
suffering from nervous apprehension--?

"I beg you on no account to disturb Cardinal Udeschini," he
returned loftily. "It is not a matter of the slightest
consequence."