He moved uneasily, and I glanced at him up from under my hat. I don’t know why he does not attract me now as much as he did at first. There is something so cold and cynical about his face.
“Listen, Evangeline,” he said at last. “Something must be settled for you—I cannot allow you to drift about like this. I am more or less your guardian—you know—you must feel that.”
“I don’t a bit,” I said.
“You impossible little—witch!” he came closer.
“Yes, Lady Verningham says I am a witch, and a snake, and all sorts of bad attractive things, and I want to go somewhere where I shall be able to show these qualities! England is dull—what do you think of Paris?”
Oh! it did amuse me, launching forth these remarks. They would never come into my head for any one else!
He walked across the room and back. His face was disturbed.
“You shall not go to Paris—alone. How can you even suggest such a thing,” he said.
I did not speak. He grew exasperated.