"Your duty?" unpleasantly, and with a certain scornful uplifting of her small Grecian nose.
"Just so," coldly; "I am your guardian, remember."
"Oh, pray do not perpetually seek to remind me of that detestable fact," says Miss Chesney, vindictively; whereupon Sir Guy freezes, and subsides into dead and angry silence. Lilian, sweeping over to the darkening window, commences upon the pane a most disheartening tattoo, that makes the listener long for death. When Chetwoode can stand it no longer, he breaks the oppressive stillness.
"Perhaps you are not aware," he says, angrily, "that a noise of that description is intensely irritating."
"No. I like it," retorts Miss Chesney, tattooing louder than ever.
"If you go on much longer, you will drive me out of my mind," remarks Guy, distractedly.
"Oh, don't let it come to that," calmly; "let me drive you out of the room first."
"As to my guardianship," says Chetwoode, in a chilling tone, "console yourself with the reflection that it cannot last forever. Time is never at a standstill, and your twenty-first birthday will restore you to freedom. You can then ride as many wild animals and kill yourself as quickly as you please, without asking any one's consent."
"I can do that now too, and probably shall. I have quite made up my mind to ride Saracen to-morrow!"
"Then the sooner you unmake that mind the better."