The tears sprang to her eyes; but, alas for human frailty! this time they were tears of vexation.
There was silence for almost a minute. Then Kenrick said, “Do you know I’ve been with you more than three months?”
“Well,” replied Clara, pettishly, “is there anything so very surprising or disagreeable in that?”
“But I fear Onarock will prove my Capua,—that it will unfit me for the sterner warfare of life.”
“O, go to your sterner warfare, since you desire it!”
And with a desperate effort at nonchalance she swung her hat by its ribbon, and sang that little air from “La Bayadère” by Auber,—“Je suis content,—je suis heureux.”
“Clara, dear friend, you seem displeased with me. What have I done?”
“You want to humiliate me!” exclaimed Clara, reproachfully, and bursting into a passion of tears.
“Want to humiliate you? I can’t see how.”
“I suppose not,” returned Clara, ironically. “There are none so blind as those who don’t choose to see.”