"I've always expected you," he said deliberately, "ever since I told you that I often dined at Thirion's."
"You expected me to—"
"To run after me?" said Vernon with paraded ingenuousness; "yes, didn't you?"
"I run after you? You—" she stopped short, for she saw in his eyes that, if she let him quarrel with her now, it was forever.
He at the same moment awoke from the trance of anger that had come upon him when he found himself alone with her; anger at her, and at himself, fanned to fury by the thought of Betty and of what she, at this moment, must be thinking. He laughed:
"Ah, don't break my heart!" he said, "I've been so happy all the evening fancying that you had—you had—"
"Had what?" she asked with dry lips, for the caress in his tone was such as to deceive the very elect.
"Had felt just the faintest little touch of interest in me. Had cared to know how I spent my evenings, and with whom!"
"You thought I could stoop to spy on you?" she asked. "Monsieur flatters himself."
The anger in him was raising its head again.