How will she receive him? Not a word, save those much-begrudged ones at breakfast, has passed between them since last night; and this hurrying away from the others, does it not mean a dislike to meet him?
"You have mounted very high in the world!" says he, stopping beneath the tree and addressing her.
He has come towards her very softly on the grass—so softly that she has not heard his coming. And now, as he speaks, she starts violently, and looks down at him as if surprised out of all measure. In a second, however, she recovers herself.
"True!" says she; "I have married you!"
It is to be still war, then! Rylton bites his lips, but controls himself. It is plain he is not forgiven. But, after all, she has had something to forgive, and more—far more than she even knows. That last suspicion of her was base.
"That is an unkind little speech!" says he gently. "It reminds me that it was you who set me up in the world."
This shaft tells.
Tita colours warmly; her generous soul shrinks from such an accusation.
"I didn't mean that," says she; "you know very well I didn't. I wish," petulantly, "you would go away; I want to read."
"Well, I'm going," says Rylton. As a means of carrying out this promise, he props himself up with a branch of the tree on which she is sitting—a branch on a level with her dainty little silk-clad feet. He has leant both his arms on it, and now involuntarily his eyes rest upon her shoes. "What beautiful feet you have!" says he slowly.