There is a pause.
It is on Rylton's tongue to say she has given herself away very considerably of late, but he abstains from saying so—with difficulty, however!
"No, I should not," says Rylton gravely.
"No? Is that the truth?" She bites her lips. "After all," with angry tearfulness, "I dare say it is. I believe you would rather keep me here for ever—just to be able to worry the life out of me day by day."
"You have a high opinion of me!"
Rylton is white now with rage.
"You are wrong there; I have the worst opinion of you; I think you a tyrant—a perfect Nero!"
Suddenly she lifts her pretty hands and covers her face with them.
She bursts into tears.
"And you promised you would never be unkind to me!" sobs she.
"Unkind! Good heavens!" says Rylton, distractedly. Who is unkind?
Is it he or she? Who is in fault?