“Certainly,” said Deronda. “Lord and Lady Pentreath disappeared some time ago.”
Grandcourt gave his arm in silent compliance, nodding over his shoulder to Deronda, and Gwendolen too only half turned to bow and say, “Thanks.” The husband and wife left the gallery and paced the corridors in silence. When the door had closed on them in the boudoir, Grandcourt threw himself into a chair and said, with undertoned peremptoriness, “Sit down.” She, already in the expectation of something unpleasant, had thrown off her burnous with nervous unconsciousness, and immediately obeyed. Turning his eyes toward her, he began,
“Oblige me in future by not showing whims like a mad woman in a play.”
“What do you mean?” said Gwendolen.
“I suppose there is some understanding between you and Deronda about tha
