“Let us go and get an ice or some coffee first; yes?”
“Don’t keep saying ‘yes’ that way,” she cried impatiently; “you know how it frets me.”
He took her arm gently.
“You are indeed fatigued,” he said in a low tone, “I have troubled you much to-night. But I have trouble myself too. Did you see how unhappy I was, and was it so that you sent for me? Dites-moi franchement.”
“Yes,” she answered, with simplicity.
“And why did you care?”
“I didn’t want you to think what I knew that you were thinking.”
“Did you care that I was unhappy?”
“I cared that you thought that I would lie.”
“I was quite furious,” he meditated; “I came from the train so late and found that you were gone out. Je ne me fâche jamais sans raison,—but I had good reason to-night.”