"Because I didn't throw myself into the water head foremost to please you?" with impatient wrath. "They used to call that chivalry long ago. I call it folly. You should be reasonable."
"Oh, don't lose your temper about it," says Molly.
Now, to have a person implore you at any time "not to lose your temper" is simply abominable; but to be so implored when you have lost it is about the most aggravating thing that can occur to any one. So Luttrell finds it.
"I never lose my temper about trifles," he says, loftily.
"Well, I don't know what you call it, but when one puts on a frown, and drags down the corners of one's mouth, and looks as if one was going to devour some one, and makes one's self generally disagreeable, I know what I call it," says Molly, viciously.
"Would you like to return home?" asks Mr. Luttrell, with prompt solicitude. "You are tired, I think."
"'Tired'? Not in the least, thank you. I should like to stay out here for the next two hours, if——"
"Yes?"
"If you think you could find amusement for yourself—elsewhere!"
"I'll try," says Tedcastle, quietly taking up the oars and proceeding to row with much appearance of haste toward the landing-place.