Presently she said one word and one only, but it was enough.
"_Elizabeth._"
Her sister opened her lips to speak again, but hesitated, and changed
her mind. There was something in Beatrice's manner that checked her.
"Well," she said at length, "you should not irritate me so, Beatrice."
Beatrice made no reply. She only turned towards Geoffrey, and with a
graceful little bow, said:
"Mr. Bingham, I am sure that you will forgive this scene. The fact is,
we all slept badly last night, and it has not improved our tempers."
There was a pause, of which Mr. Granger took a hurried and rather
undignified advantage.
"Um, ah," he said. "By the way, Beatrice, what was it I wanted to say?
Ah, I know--have you written, I mean written out, that sermon for next
Sunday? My daughter," he added, addressing Geoffrey in explanation--"um,
copies my sermons for me. She writes a very good hand----"
Remembering Beatrice's confidence as to her sermon manufacturing
functions, Geoffrey felt amused at her father's _naive_ way of
describing them, and Beatrice also smiled faintly as she answered that
the sermon was ready.
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