“I have not thought of it.”
“And that’s lucky,” she said, with a smile which sent his head spinning.
“Why?” The word broke from him.
“I should hate a house I did not choose for myself.”
“You!—Fanny!” He made a step nearer, but checked himself, gripping the back of a chair, and breathing the words—“You are cruel!”
She darted a look at him.
“Do you want me to retract?”
He became incoherent.
“You—you know I daren’t think of what I want—”
“You might.”