"Pardon me," he said, in a deep whisper, drawing her farther from the window and speaking in an earnest, almost pleading tone, "pardon me. I was wrong to speak so, but let me plead as an excuse some provocation. I have not wounded you, Miss Mildmay, by those few words one-tenth so much as you have me by one of a thousand you have spoken to-day."
Violet tried to draw her hand away, but his strong, hard hand retained it against her will.
"Wait one moment, I implore you," he said. "Wait while you tell me wherein I have offended you."
"Really," said Violet, with a low ripple of amusement which maddened him. "This is like a charade——"
"Tell me," he said, interrupting her almost sternly, "have you forgotten yesterday? Miss Mildmay, speak to me if you can as an honest woman should speak to an honest man. If the assurance of my devoted——"
"Oh, stop—pray stop!" said Violet, with a laugh which was calculated to madden a less passionate and willful temper than Leicester's. "What a contradiction! In one breath you assert your doubt of my honesty and assure me of your devoted—what? Oh, no! no more, Mr. Leicester! Pray be assured that I am not offended—not with any one! I am quite happy, and I don't understand you in the least. Shall we go in?"
She moved toward the window as she spoke, smiling with maddening wickedness, and fanning herself hurriedly, her heart throbbing all the while like a wild animal within her bosom.
Leicester turned with stern courtesy.
"By all means," he said. "I hope you have not caught cold!"
She dropped him a mocking curtsey and passed through the window.