"Well,"—turning upon him as though fully prepared to crush him with her coming speech,—"if I don't ride him I shall stay at home altogether: there!"
"I think that will be by far the wiser plan of the two," returns he, coolly.
"What! and lose all my day!" cries Lilian, overwhelmed by the atrocity of this remark, "while you and all the others go and enjoy yourselves! How hatefully selfish you can be! But I won't be tyrannized over in this fashion. I shall go, and on Saracen too."
"You shall not," firmly.
Miss Chesney has come close up to where he is standing on the hearth-rug. The fire-light dances and crackles merrily, casting its rays, now yellow, now deep crimson, over their angry faces, as though drawing keen enjoyment from the deadly duel going on so near to it. One pale gleam lingers lovingly upon Lilian's sunny head, throwing over it yet another shade, if possible richer and more golden than its fellows; another lights up her white hands, rather defiantly clinched, one small foot in its high-heeled shoe that has advanced beyond her gown, and two blue eyes large with indignant astonishment.
Guy is returning her gaze with almost equal indignation, being angrily remindful of certain looks and scenes that of late have passed between them.
"You defy me?" says Lilian, slowly.
"I do."
"You refuse me?" as though not quite believing the evidence of her senses.
"I do. I forbid you to ride that one horse."