"Well, we part friends?" she said, holding out her hand with a quiet smile.
Angus looked at her with a glance of anger in his eyes.
"Coquette!" he growled out between his clenched teeth, and, taking no notice of her extended hand, left the room quickly.
Left to herself, Victoria sat down and thought over the scene. The declaration of Angus had touched her by its manly honesty, but, as she had not thought of marrying him, her mode of refusal had certainly been the best possible in order to cool his passion. His anger, however, and the fast word he had uttered, opened her eyes to the situation, and she saw that her determination to spite Eustace, by taking his friend away, had been more serious than she imagined.
This reflection made her angry with herself, and of course she vented her rage on Angus, simply because she had treated him badly.
"Stupid boy," she said to herself, angrily, "he might have seen I was not in earnest. I never gave him to understand that I would marry him. These men are so conceited, they think they have only got to throw the handkerchief like the Sultan. The lesson will do him good. Yet he is a nice, honest boy, and I'm sorry we did not part friends. Never mind, I expect he'll come back shortly. I'm sure he ought to, and beg my pardon--if he's got any sense of decency--foolish boy."
She tried to write but felt too angry with herself, Angus and the whole world, to do so, therefore she ran up to her own room, worried herself ill over the whole affair and ultimately ended up in having a good cry and a fit of self-commiseration.
Meanwhile, Otterburn' in a towering passion, walked outside, and seeking a secluded seat under a spreading oak, sat down in a most doleful mood.
"The heartless coquette," said this ill-used young man aloud, staring dismally at the lake. "I wonder what she thinks a man is made of to be preached at? I asked for love and she gave me a sermon. Good Lord! I thought she would have cried and made a fuss like other girls, but she didn't, confound her! Fancy talking about ignorance of character and all that stuff, when a fellow's dying of love, and as to being friends, that's not my style. I'm not going to run after her like a poodle dog, and be driven away every two minutes. I'll see Gartney, and we'll go away at once. I'll never see her again, never! never! never!"
"That's emphatic, at all events," said a quiet voice at his elbow, and on turning round, he saw Eustace standing near him complacently smoking a cigarette.