“Well, have you taught her how bad it is?”
“I think I have,” said Perior, looking over Camelia’s head at the open doorway. She stood aside to let him join her.
“What have you to teach me this morning—caballero de la triste figura?” she said as he came down the stairs and stood beside her.
“I don’t propose to teach you anything. I am not responsible for you.”
Camelia had not analyzed his probable mood incorrectly; he was angry, and he was trying to hide his anger, fearing for his self-control. But more than that—though this the acute Camelia had never quite divined—he was feeling very unhappy. That he was angry she saw, however, with a little thrill of triumph running through her veins. Smiling an even smile she said, slipping her hand through his arm—
“Ah! but you are responsible. Come into the morning-room.”
“Is Lady Paton there?” Perior asked gloomily.
“Yes.” Camelia had seen her mother and Mary walking safely away into the garden with Gwendolen Holt and Lady Tramley. She threw open the door and ushered him in.
CHAPTER X
PERIOR surveyed the emptiness; it hardly surprised him, and well understanding her determination to wheedle him, he felt an added strength of determination not to be wheedled.