“I suppose that’s Captain Cursiter coming up the lake?” indicating, through an opening in the branches, a glimpse of a white funnel and its thong of thinly streaming vapour; “he seems as fond of boating as ever.”
“Yes, I daresay he is,” said Hawkins, without pretending any interest, real or polite, in the topic. He was in the frame of mind that lies near extravagance of some kind, whether of temper or sentiment, and, being of a disposition not versed in self-repression, he did not attempt diplomacy. He looked sulkily at the launch, and then, with a shock of association, he thought of the afternoon that he and Francie had spent on the lake, and the touch of unworthiness that there was in him made him long to remind her of her subjugation.
“Are you as fond of boating as—as you were when we ran aground last year?” he said, and looked at her daringly.
He was rewarded by seeing her start perceptibly and turn her head away, and he had the grace to feel a little ashamed of himself. Francie looked down the bluebell slope till her eyes almost ached with the soft glow of colour, conscious that every moment of delay in answering told against her, but unable to find the answer. The freedom and impertinence of the question did not strike her at all; she only felt that he was heartlessly trying to humiliate her.
“I’d be obliged to you, Mr. Hawkins,” she said, her panting breath making her speak with extreme difficulty, “if you’d leave me to walk by myself.”
Before she spoke he knew that he had made a tremendous mistake, and, as she moved on at a quickened pace, he felt he must make peace with her at any price.
“Mrs. Lambert,” he said, with a gravity and deference which he had never shown to her before, “is it any use to beg your pardon? I didn’t know what I was saying—I hardly know now what I did say—but if it made you angry or—or offended you, I can only say I’m awfully sorry.”
“Thank you, I don’t want you to say anything,” she answered, still walking stiffly on.
“If it would give you any pleasure, I swear I’ll promise never to speak to you again!” Hawkins continued; “shall I go away now?” His instinct told him to risk the question.
“Please yourself. It’s nothing to me what you do.”