"Well, I don't care who you asked," says Tita mutinously.
"You went out at eight, and you came home late for breakfast at half-past ten."
"I explained all that to you," says Tita, flinging out her hands. "Tom and I went for a race, and of course I didn't think it would take so long, and——"
"I don't suppose," coldly, "you thought at all."
"Certainly I never thought I was going to get a scolding on my return!"
"A scolding! I shouldn't dream of scolding so advanced a person as you," says Rylton—who is scolding with all his might.
"I wonder what you think you are doing now?" says Tita. She pauses and looks at him critically. He returns her gaze. His cold eyes so full of condemnation, his compressed lips that speak of anger hardly kept back, all make a picture that impresses itself upon her mind. Not, alas! in any salutary way. "Well," says she at last, with much deliberation and open, childish vindictiveness, "if you only knew how ugly you are when you look like that, you would never do it again!" She nods her head. "There!" says she.
It is so unexpected, so utterly undignified, that it takes all the dignity out of Rylton on the spot. It suddenly occurs to him that it is no good to be angry with her. What is she? A mere naughty child—or——
"You do not know who you are like!" continues she.
Rylton shakes his head; he is afraid to speak—a sudden wild desire to laugh is oppressing him.