“No, it doesn't,” she answered him, “and that is the bad side of it. I am getting worse every day of my life.”
“Is it safe,” he suggested, cynically,—"is it safe for an innocent individual to cultivate your acquaintance? Would it not be a good plan to isolate yourself from society until you feel that the guileless ones may approach you without fear of contamination? You alarm me.”
She lifted up her head, her eyes flashing.
“You are safe,” she said; “so it is rather premature to cry 'wolf' so soon.”
“It is very plain that you are outgrowing me,” he returned. “Dolly herself could not have made a more scathing remark.”
But, fond as he was of tormenting her, he did not want to try her too far, and so he endeavored to make friends. But his efforts at reconciliation were not a success. She was not to be coaxed into her sweet mood again; indeed she almost led him to fear that he had wounded her irreparably by his jests. And yet, when he at last consulted his watch, and went to the side-table for his hat and gloves, he turned round to find her large eyes following him in a wistful sort of way.
“Are you going?” she asked him at length, a half-reluctant appeal in her voice.
“I am due at Brabazon Lodge now,” he answered.
She said no more after that, but relapsed into silence, and let him go without making an effort to detain him, receiving his adieus in her most indifferent style.
But she was cross and low-spirited when he was gone, and Aimée, coming into the room with her work, found her somewhat hard to deal with, and indeed was moved to tell her so.