"You are going?" said Grandcourt, coming up with his usual air, as if he did not conceive that there had been any omission on his part. Lord Brackenshaw gave place to him and moved away.
"Yes, we are going," said Gwendolen, looking busily at her scarf, which she was arranging across her shoulders Scotch fashion.
"May I call at Offendene to-morrow?"
"Oh yes, if you like," said Gwendolen, sweeping him from a distance with her eyelashes. Her voice was light and sharp as the first touch of frost.
Mrs. Davilow accepted his arm to lead her to the carriage; but while that was happening, Gwendolen with incredible swiftness had got in advance of them, and had sprung into the carriage.
"I got in, mamma, because I wished to be on this side," she said, apologetically. But she had avoided Grandcourt's touch: he only lifted his hat and walked away--with the not unsatisfactory impression that she meant to show herself offended by his neglect.

"You are going?" said Grandcourt, coming up with his usual air.
"Yes," said Gwendolen, busily arranging her scarf across her shoulders.
"May I call at Offendene tomorrow?"
"Oh yes, if you like," said Gwendolen, her voice as light and sharp as the first touch of frost.
Before he could lead them to the carriage, she swiftly sprang into it on her own.
"I wished to be on this side, mamma," she said, apologetically. But she had avoided Grandcourt's touch: he lifted his hat and walked away, with the not unsatisfactory impression that she was offended by his neglect.
