I shrugged my shoulders and gave a little toss of the head--none too energetic of course, for fear of consequences.
"I'll make it up to you. You know that, dearest. You know that I worship the very ground you tread on, and all my life shall be devoted to make you happy."
It was a queer sensation to have a man making love to me, and if I could have counterfeited Althea's voice, I'd have led him on a bit. Although, how any girl could feel romantic with a thing tickling her face, as that infernal veil was tickling mine, beat me. My chief sensation was an almost overpowering desire to rub my nose.
My silence and my attitude of resentful disbelief annoyed him. "You let me make love to you before that infernal Englishman came in the way," he said, only he used a stronger epithet for me. "I suppose he has done his best to set you against me. But I'm even with him now."
I maintained the same stolid coldness.
"Aren't you going to speak a word to me?" he cried after a long pause; and he bent forward and tried to look into my face.
It was fortunately a very dull evening, and the light inside the carriage was so dim that even at close quarters he could not have made out my features; but I took care he should not get too close, and twisted away from him.
Then he commenced to claw for my hand again. I was afraid he would put his arm round my waist, for I knew that the dimensions of it would give him something of a shock. As it was he fooled about with my arm; and that he did not at once discover that no girl, except an athlete, was likely to have an arm as hard as mine, was amazing. However, he got hold of my fingers--I was sitting with arms crossed--and when I found that the size of them did not rouse his suspicions, I let him retain his hold.
This appeared to satisfy him, and he kept hold, squeezing them now and again as if he found great pleasure in the business.
I could not refrain from speculating whether a girl in such circumstances would have thought a man such an awful ass as I thought him. I suppose she would.