“That you are talking nonsense,” she answered.
He laughed quietly.
“I’ll adopt you informally,” he said. “We needn’t particularise the relationship,—only you must understand that it places me in authority. We will start with the order for sea-bathing. To-morrow I give you your first swimming lesson.”
She made no verbal response to this. With her disengaged hand she played nervously with the sand, piling it in small heaps, and scattering these to pile them anew. He watched her in idle amusement.
“She is going to be good,” he murmured.
“I think,” Blanche said abruptly, “I ought to go in now. The children will be in bed.”
“They are asleep,” he replied. “You know quite well you aren’t wanted. There is half an hour yet before we need bother about returning. Talk to me, you silent person. Give me the benefit of all those repressed thoughts of yours. Whenever I watch you, you are always dreaming. Do you never tell your dreams?”
“They aren’t worth telling,” she answered coldly, with difficulty restraining a desire to cry.
She wanted to beg him to desist from tormenting her, to leave her alone, to ignore her as he used to do. This persistent persecution worried her. She was no match for a man of his years and ripe experience. She was attracted by his personality, and at the same time afraid of him, a dangerous combination of emotions for a girl of twenty-two.
“I would like to judge that for myself,” he said. “I incline to believe I should find those day dreams interesting. Is it love you think about so much?”