"That's not all," Ora interrupted. "Are my eyes red?"
"You've not been crying?"
"Yes, I have," she retorted, almost angrily. "Oh, why did I go with you on Sunday? Why did you make me go?"
She seemed to be conscience-stricken; he drew up a chair and sat down by her. She did not send him away now but looked at him appealingly. She had something of the air that she had worn in the inn parlour, but there joy had been mingled with her appeal; there was no joy in her eyes now.
"We didn't do much harm on Sunday," he said.
"I believe I'm preventing you doing what you ought to do, what all your friends wish for you, what would be best for you. It's just like me. I can't help it."
"What are you preventing me from doing?"
"Oh, you know. Irene says you are quite getting to like her. And she's so nice."
"But Lady Kilnorton's engaged already."
"You know I don't mean Lady Kilnorton. Don't make fun now, Ashley, don't."