'You find her rather troublesome to teach, I should be afraid,' Dagworthy pursued, watching her every moment. 'Jessie isn't much for study, is she?'
'Perhaps she is a little absent now and then,' replied Emily, saying the first thing that occurred to her.
She had collected her books and was about to fasten a strap round them.
'Do let me do that for you,' said Dagworthy, and he forestalled her assent, which she would probably not have given, by taking the books from her hands. He put up his foot on the chair, as if for the convenience of doing the strapping on his knee, but before he had finished it he spoke again.
'You are fond of teaching, I suppose?'
'Yes, I like it.'
She stood in expectant waiting, her hands held together before her, her head just bent. The attitude was grace itself. Dagworthy raised his eyes slowly from her feet to her face.
'But you wouldn't care to go on with it always?'
'I—I don't think about it,' she replied, nervousness again seizing her. There was a new look in his eyes, a vehemence, a fervour, which she dared not meet after the first glance. He would not finish the strapping of the books, and she could not bid him do so. Had she obeyed her instinct, she would have hastened away, heedless of anything but the desire to quit his presence.
'How long will your holidays be?' he asked, letting the books fall to the chair, as if by accident.