The girl, who was making some notes in her book, continued her work without the slightest appearance of having heard him.
Da Souza snorted, but at that moment he felt a grip like iron upon his shoulder, and deemed retreat expedient.
“If you don't go without another word,” came a hot whisper in his ear, “I'll throw you into the horse-pond.”
He went swiftly, ungracious, scowling. Trent returned to the girl. She looked up at him and closed her book.
“You must change your friends,” she said gravely. “What a horrible man!”
“He is a beast,” Trent answered, “and go he shall. I would to Heaven that I had never seen him.”
She rose, slipped her note-book into her pocket, and drew on her gloves.
“I have taken up quite enough of your time,” she said. “I am so much obliged to you, Mr. Trent, for all you have told me. It has been most interesting.”
She held out her hand, and the touch of it sent his heart beating with a most unusual emotion. He was aghast at the idea of her imminent departure. He realised that, when she passed out of his gate, she passed into a world where she would be hopelessly lost to him, so he took his courage into his hands, and was very bold indeed.
“You have not told me your name,” he reminded her.