"A thing is either right or wrong," she says, superbly. "I may surely wear either none, or both."
"Then remove both," says Guy, feeling he would rather see her without his, if it must only be worn in conjunction with Chesney's.
"I shan't," returns Lilian, deliberately. "I shall wear both as long as it suits me,—because I adore rings."
"Then you are acting very wrongly. I know there is little use in my speaking to you, once you are bent upon having your own way. You are so self-willed, and so determined."
"Without a friend, what were humanity,
To hunt our errors up with a good grace?"
quotes Lilian lightly. "There is no use in your lecturing me, Sir Guy; it does me little good. You want your way, and I want mine; I am not 'self-willed,' but I don't like tyranny, and I always said you were tyrannical."
"You are of course privileged to say what you like," haughtily.
"Very well; then I shall say it. One would think I was a baby, the way you—scold—and torment me," here the tears of vexation and childish wrath rise in her eyes; "but I do not acknowledge your authority; I have told you so a hundred times, and I never shall,—never, never, never!"
"Lilian, listen to me——"