She need not have feared this. Mr. Lovel was rarely offended by anything
that did not cause him physical discomfort.
"How do you do, my dear?" he said, as she came into the room, in very much
the same tone he might have employed had they seen each other every day for
the last twelve months. "Be sure you never do that again, if you have the
faintest regard for me."
"Do what, papa?"
"Leave that window open when you go out. I found the room a perfect
ice-house just now. It was very neglectful of Martha to allow it. You'd
better use the door at the end of the passage in future, when you go into
the garden. It's only a little more trouble, and I can't stand open windows
at this time of year."
"I will be sure to do so, papa," Clarissa answered meekly. She went up to
her father and kissed him, the warmth and spontaneity of their greeting a
little diminished by this reproof about the window; but Clarissa had not
expected a very affectionate reception, and was hardly disappointed. She
had only a blank hopeless kind of feeling; a settled conviction that there
was no love for her here, and that there had never been any.
"My dear father," she began tenderly, "my uncle told me about the sale of
Arden. I was so shocked by the news--so sorry--for your sake."
"And for your own sake too, I suppose," her father answered bitterly. "The
less this subject is spoken of between us in future, the better we shall
get on together, Clarissa.
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