Bruce could not make up his mind which attitude to take.
In a way, it was all the Mitchells' fault. They oughtn't to have given
him a verbal invitation. It was rude, Bohemian, wanting in good form;
it showed an absolute and complete ignorance of the most ordinary and
elementary usages of society. It was wanting in common courtesy;
really, when one came to think about it, it was an insult. On the other
hand, technically, Bruce was in the wrong. Having accepted he ought to
have turned up on the right night. It may have served them right (as he
said), but the fact of going on the wrong night being a lesson to them
seemed a little obscure. Edith found it difficult to see the point.
Then he had a more brilliant idea; to go into the office as cheerily as
ever, and say to Mitchell pleasantly, 'We're looking forward to next
Saturday, old chap,' pretending to have believed from the first that
the invitation had been for the Saturday week; and that the dinner was
still to come....
This, Edith said, would have been excellent, provided that the
parlourmaid hadn't told them that she and Bruce had arrived about a
quarter to ten on Sunday evening and asked if the Mitchells had begun
dinner. The chances against the servant having kept this curious
incident to herself were almost too great.
After long argument and great indecision the matter was settled by a
cordial letter from Mrs Mitchell, asking them to dinner on the
following Thursday, and saying she feared there had been some mistake.
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