'There was
something on the master's mind.' His anxieties never depressed him as
they did other men, but strung up his energies to a point of mental
tension and exasperation which made him terrible to his domestics. It
was not his acts--his conduct was always under control, but chiefly his
looks, and accents, and an influence that seemed to take possession of
him at such times that rendered him undefinably formidable to his
servants.
'Ha!--mighty obleeging (he so pronounced the word)--let in at last--cold
outside, Ma'am. You've let out the fire I suppose?'
His tones were like the bark of a wolf, and there was a devilish smirk
in his white face, as he made her a mock salutation, and glided into his
parlour. The fire was bright enough, however, as Mrs. Jukes was much
relieved to see; and dropping a courtesy she enquired whether he would
like a dish of tea, or anything?
'No, Ma'am!' he snarled.
'Would he like his dressing-gown and slippers?'
'No, Ma'am,' again. So she dropped another courtesy, and sneaked away to
the kitchen, with short, noiseless steps, and heard Mr. Dangerfield shut
the door sharply.
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