"Don't come nearer to me," she said, with a bitter little laugh that was full of pain; "how do I know but that you mean to strike me again?"
"Oh, Angel, you know better than that!" he remonstrated. "I did it in temper!"
"That's no excuse!"
"No, no, of course not; but do forgive me, and let us be friends again. We never quarrelled like this before!"
"Well, it's not my fault that we've quarrelled now," she reminded him significantly.
This perverse, stubborn Angel was not like his loving little sister at all. He looked at her with pleading blue eyes, really anxious to bring about a reconciliation.
"Let us kiss and be friends," he said, with his winning smile. "Come, Angel, I know you mean to forgive me in the end!"
She deigned no reply, but turning abruptly away, left the room, whilst he followed. When, however, he saw she was going to the studio, he retraced his steps, and threw himself into a chair not far from the one in which Mr. Bailey still slept. Suddenly his uncle gave a loud snore, and awoke, exclaiming—
"Dear me, I think I must have been asleep!"
Ordinarily such a remark would have made Gerald laugh, but he now vouchsafed no reply. He considered Mr. Bailey had done him an ill-turn that day, and he was disinclined to converse with him.