“Don’t you? Why, in that event, the sweet, pure, and beautiful Lyn—yes, she is beautiful—I’d concede that and more—will bid you an extremely cold and curt farewell—even if she condescends to speak to you again at all for the remainder of your natural life.”
“That too, would be regrettable, and would pain me. But we should have to say good-bye sooner or later.”
“No, Hilary. You never intended to say anything of the sort. You can’t fool me, you see.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
Again the jeering laugh rang out. “What am I talking about?” she echoed, quite undaunted by the curt, stern tones. “You know perfectly well. You are over head and ears in love with her.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? It is though,” she answered, her eyes fixed full upon his and rippling into mischievous laughter. “Why, you have grown quite pale at the bare mention of it! Shall I say it again? You are over head and ears in love with her. And—I wonder if she is with you?”
“Oh, hold your scandalous tongue, woman,” he rejoined wearily, knowing better than to delight her by exhibiting what must necessarily be impotent anger. “Really, you are rendering yourself absolutely and uncompromisingly loathsome. Again I say you must give up this scheme. I will prevent it at any cost.”
“Well, you know what the cost is—and if you don’t, it isn’t for want of warning. Keep quiet and so will I. Interfere with my plans and I’ll wreck all yours. Give me away and I’ll give you away, and then we’ll see which comes out best. Now we are nearly back at the house again, so you’d better be civil, or, what is more important still, look it.”