"Well, I never thought so till now," says she. She nods at him.
"Good-night."
"No, stop!" says Rylton. "I will have this out with you. You pretend to misunderstand me; but I shall make it clear. Do you think I have not seen your conduct of this evening?"
"Mine?"
"Yes, with your cousin—with Hescott." He draws nearer to her. His eyes are on fire, his face white. "Do you think I saw nothing?"
"I don't know what you saw," says she slowly.
All her lovely mirth has died away, as if killed by a cruel death.
"Don't you?" tauntingly. "Then I will tell you. I saw you"—he pauses as if to watch the changes of her face, to see when fear arises, but none does—"in the arbour"—he pauses again, but again no fear arises—"with your cousin."
He grows silent, studying her with eager eyes, as if expecting something; but nothing comes of all his scrutiny, except surprise. Surprise, indeed, marks all her charming features.
"Well?" says she, as he stops, as if expecting more.
She waits, indeed, as one at a loss.