She clenches her hands involuntarily. The fan falls with a little crash to the ground.
"No." He is silent a moment, "No—it is unfair—unjust! You shall not be made uncomfortable again. It is the last time.... I shall not trouble you again in this way. I don't say we shall never meet again. You"—pausing and looking at her—"you do not desire that?"
"Oh, no," coldly, politely.
"If you do, say so at once," with a rather peremptory ring in his tone.
"I should," calmly.
"I am glad of that. As my cousin is a great friend of mine, and as I shall get a fortnight's leave soon, I shall probably run over to Ireland, and spend it with her. After all"—bitterly—"why should I suppose it would be disagreeable to you?"
"It was quite a natural idea," says she, immovably.
"However," says he, steadily, "you need not be afraid that, even if we do meet, I shall ever annoy you in this way again——"
"Oh, I am never afraid," says she, with that terrible smile that seems to freeze him.
"Well, good-bye," holding out his hand. He is quite as composed as she is now, and is even able to return her smile in kind.