Hora had observed, but said nothing. But when she did not make her appearance at the dinner-table he went to her room. The door was locked. He began to be afraid. But she answered to his knocking that she had a headache and could not eat. He reasoned with her, and commanded that she should join him at the table. She was on the point of refusing, but habit was strong. She obeyed his peremptory request, though sullenly. Hora took no notice of her mood, while the meal was being served, but when it was over and Myra rose to leave he rose too and followed her. She went direct towards her own room. He checked her.
"I must speak to you to-night, Myra," he said. "I have something important to say to you."
She passed through the door which Hora held open for her without a word and threw herself into a chair. She anticipated some reproach, but she was far too miserable to care for reproaches.
Hora was silent awhile after he had entered and seated himself opposite her. Then he spoke sharply. "What have you been saying or doing to Guy to drive him away from his home?"
The suddenness, the preposterous nature, of the charge aroused Myra as nothing else could have done. Her lethargy vanished. The colour flashed to her cheeks and the light to her eyes, though surprise tied her tongue so that Hora had time to repeat the query.
"What have I done to Guy?" she answered. "What do you mean? Do you think that I—that I—would do anything to send him away?"
"I can conceive of no other reason why he should have so deserted his home of late," answered Hora coldly. He was deliberately provoking a storm, and it burst upon him.
"I am not quite the fool you suppose me to be, Commandatore," she cried hotly. "You cannot impose upon me with the shallow pretence that you think I am responsible for Guy's absence. I am not blind. I can see plainly enough that your intention has been to get Guy away and there can only be one motive for your wishing to do so. You think he can do far better for himself than to mate with a girl you picked up from the gutter."
"Suppose I have thought so; what then?" asked Hora. "What cause have you for complaint?"
"None," she answered, her voice full of bitterness. "Save that you have allowed me to live in a fool's paradise, that you have encouraged me to believe that one day the impossible might happen, that you have encouraged me to believe that there was no one you would so welcome as daughter as myself. I don't know why you should have instilled such a belief in my mind, Commandatore, unless you have hated me all the time. You must have done so, and now you should be glad. You have made me suffer—well, now you can gloat over the thought."