“Yes.”
She spoke wearily, all spirit seemed to have been taken out of her by the scenes she had gone through since Harry’s first bullying that afternoon.
“What were you doing there? Tell me at once.”
“I was doing nothing to be ashamed of; you know that perfectly well. I will tell you all about it to-morrow. It would be of no use to try to make you understand now,” said she, glancing up at his flushed face with an involuntary shudder of disgust.
“You will tell me now, whether I understand or not—that is my lookout,” returned he, doggedly. “I’ve had enough of your infernal airs of superiority, and I mean to show you I’m master. You go about with a long face, telling everybody you are too good for me, when all the while——”
“Take care what you say!” she broke in, with sudden spirit.
“What were you doing in the garden, then?” thundered he. “What was Colonel Richardson there for?”
She did not answer. It was not so much to shield Lilian as from fear of another and worse quarrel between the brothers that she was silent; and excitement, fatigue, and disgust were making her reckless.
“Do you intend to answer me or not?” asked Harry, laying a heavy hand on her shoulder.
His touch made her defiant.