Udo opened his mouth with the obvious intention of obeying her, but no words came. He seemed to have lost the thread of his argument. He felt a perfect fool, stuck up there with his elbow on a cushion, just as if he were addressing a public meeting. He looked at his elbow as if he expected to find a glass of water there ready, and Belvane divined his look and made a movement as if she were about to get it for him. It would be just like her. He flung the cushion from him ("Oh, mind my roses," cried Belvane) and came down angrily to her. Belvane looked at him with wide, innocent eyes.
"You—you—oh, don't look like that!"
"Like that?" said Belvane, looking like it again.
"Don't do it," shouted Udo, and he turned and kicked the cushion down the flagged path. "Stop it."
Belvane stopped it.
"Do you know," she said, "I'm rather frightened of you when you're angry with me."
"I am angry. Very, very angry. Excessively annoyed."
"I thought you were," she sighed.
"And you know very well why."
She nodded her head at him.