"Impossible not to be aware of that," Hugh answered. "May I ask why you
are looking at me?" It was not easy to listen gravely to Mr. Vimpany's
denunciation of intemperance, after what had taken place at the dinner
of that day. Hugh smiled. The moral majesty of the doctor entered its
protest.

"This is really shameful," he said. "The least you can do is to take it
seriously."

"What is it?" Mountjoy asked. "And why am I to take it seriously?"

Mr. Vimpany's reply was, to say the least of it, indirect. If such an
expression may be permitted, it smelt of the stage. Viewed in
connection with Mrs. Vimpany's persistent assumption of silent
humility, it suggested to Mountjoy a secret understanding, of some
kind, between husband and wife.

"What has become of your conscience, sir?" Mr. Vimpany demanded. "Is
that silent monitor dead within you? After giving me a bad dinner, do
you demand an explanation? Ha! you shall have it."

Having delivered himself to this effect, he added action to words.
Walking grandly to the door, he threw it open, and saluted Mountjoy
with an ironical bow. Iris observed that act of insolence; her colour
rose, her eyes glittered. "Do you see what he has just done?" she said
to Mrs. Vimpany.

The doctor's wife answered softly: "I don't understand it." After a
glance at her husband, she took Iris by the hand: "Dear Miss Henley,
shall we retire to my room?"