"Think, for heaven's sake, think what you are doing!" he cried, feeling for the edge of the table with a support-seeking hand. "I—I had Sara's word that you were not—"
"Unfortunately Sara cannot speak for me in a matter of this kind. Thank you for the honour you would—"
"Honour be hanged!" he blurted out, losing his temper. "I love you! It's a purely selfish thing with me, and I'm blowed if I consider it an honour to be refused by any woman. I—"
"Mr. Wrandall!" she cried, fixing him with her flashing, indignant eyes. "You are forgetting yourself." She was standing very straight and slim and imperious before him.
He quailed. "I—I beg your pardon. I—I—"
"There is nothing more to be said," she went on icily. "Good-bye."
"Would you mind telling me whether there is any one else?" he asked, as he turned toward the door.
"Do you really feel that you have the right to ask that question, Mr. Wrandall?"
He wet his lips with his tongue. "Then, there IS some one!" he cried, rapping the table with his knuckles. He didn't realise till afterward how vigorously he rapped. "Some confounded English nobody, I suppose."
She smiled, not unkindly. "There is no English nobody, if that answers your question."