"Not until you go away."
"Why don't you want to talk to me? What have I done?"
"You know very well what you have done," she cried, hotly. "In the first place, I don't like you. You have made it very unpleasant for my mother,—who certainly has never done you any harm. In the second place, I resent your interference in my affairs. Wait! Do not interrupt me, please. Maybe you have not exactly interfered as yet, but you are determined to do so,—for the honour of the family, I suppose." She spoke scathingly. "I defy you,—and mother, too. I am not a child to be—"
"I must interrupt you," he exclaimed. "I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about."
"Don't lie," she cried, stamping her foot. "Give me credit for a little intelligence. Don't you suppose I know what mother wanted to see you about? There! I can see the guilty look in your eyes. You two have been putting your heads together, in spite of all the ill-will you bear each other, and there is no use in denying it. I am a naughty little girl and my big brother has been called in to put a stop to my foolishness. If you—What are you laughing at, Mr. Gwynne?" she broke off to demand furiously.
"I am laughing at you," he replied, succinctly. "You ARE like a little girl in a tantrum,—all over nothing at all. Little girls in tantrums are always amusing, but not always naughty. Permit me to assure you that your mother and I have not discussed your interesting affair with Mr. Lapelle. We talked of business mat—"
"Then," she cried, "how do you happen to know anything about Mr. Lapelle and me? Aha! You're not as clever as you think you are. That slipped out, didn't it? Now I know you were discussing my affairs and nothing else. Well, what is the verdict? What are you going to do to me? Lock me in my room, or tie me hand and foot, or—Please stay where you are. It is not necessary to come any nearer, Mr. Gwynne."
He continued his advance through the thicket, undeterred by the ominous light in her eyes. She stood her ground.
"I think we had better talk the matter over quietly,—Viola," he said, affecting sternness. "We can't stand here shouting at each other. It is possible we may never have another chance to converse freely. As a matter of fact, I do not intend to thrust myself upon you or your mother. That is understood, I hope. We have nothing in common and I daresay we can go our own ways without seriously inconveniencing one another. I want you to know, however, that I went to that house over there this afternoon because I thought you wanted to consult with me about something. I was prepared to help you, or to advise you, or to do anything you wanted me to do. You were not there. I felt at first that you had played me a rather shabby trick. Your mother,—my step-mother,—got me there under false pretences, solely for the purpose of straightening out a certain matter in connection with the—well, the future. She doubtless realized that I would not have come on her invitation, so she used you as a decoy. In any event, I am now glad that I saw her and talked matters over. It does not mean that we shall ever be friendly, but we at least understand each other. For your information I will state that your mother did not refer to the affair at Striker's, nor did I. I know all about it, however. I know that you went out there to meet Lapelle. You planned to run away with him and get married. I may add that it is a matter in which I have not the slightest interest. If you want to marry him, all well and good. Do so. I shall not offer any objection as a brother or as a counsellor. If you were to ask for my honest opinion, however, I should—"
"I am not asking for it," she cried, cuttingly.