"Not so bad as yours, at all events. Your face is as white as death from badly suppressed rage."
"It is a pity you can't see your own," says Roger slowly.
"Don't speak to me like that, Roger," says Dulce, quickly, her eyes flashing; "and—and say at once," imperiously, "that you know perfectly well I have the temper of an angel, in comparison with yours."
"Would you have me tell a deliberate lie?" says Roger, coldly.
This brings matters to a climax. Silence follows, that lasts for a full minute (a long time in such a case), and then Dulce speaks again. Her voice is quite changed; out of it all passion and excitement have been carefully withdrawn.
"I think it is time this most mistaken engagement of ours should come to an end," she says, quite quietly.
"That is as you wish, of course," replies he. "But fully understand me; if you break with me now, it shall be at once and forever."
"Your manner is almost a threat," she says. "It will be difficult to you, no doubt, but please do try to believe it will be a very great joy to me to part from you 'at once and forever.'"
"Then nothing more remains to be said; only this: it will be better for you that Uncle Christopher should be told I was the one to end this engagement, not—"
"Why?" impatiently.