“N-n-no,” said he. He turned and walked in silence for a few seconds beside her. “Are you sorry, Miss Eden, that I’ve not gone back?”
“I’m sorry you don’t seem to have enjoyed this visit as much as you did your last,” she replied discreetly.
“Well, you’re not as nice to me as you were last time, you know.”
“I?”
“Yes. You.”
He was regaining confidence a little. She was so much more coquettish than she had been on his first visit, that it suddenly dawned upon him that there might be a more flattering explanation of her conduct than the one of indifference.
“I’ve had a good deal to worry me since you were here before,” she explained more soberly, almost humbly. “Surely you know enough to understand that. Does a girl run away from her guardian’s house, as I did, without great provocation?”
“Of course not, of course not. Forgive me if, if I seem—seem—”
“I forgive you, certainly. And I can understand the trouble you are in yourself about all this. After all, Mr Bayre is your own uncle, and whatever concerns him, concerns the family, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. I’m glad you feel that. And you won’t think me intrusive if, feeling that, I feel also very much troubled about his treatment of you?”