He spoke savagely. Alice was sinking with dread, but even yet had sufficient resolve to keep up the comedy.
‘I had an invitation. I don’t see why I shouldn’t go. I don’t ask you who you go about with.’
The table was laid for supper. Rodman darted to it, seized a carving-knife, and in an instant was holding it to her throat. She shrieked and fell upon her knees, her face ghastly with mortal terror. Then Rodman burst out laughing and showed that his anger had been feigned.
She had barely strength to rise, but at length stood before him trembling and sobbing, unable to believe that he had not been in earnest.
‘You needn’t explain the trick,’ he said, with the appearance of great good-humour, ‘but just tell me why you played it. Did you think I should believe you were up to something queer, eh?’
‘You must think what you like,’ she sobbed, utterly humiliated.
He roared with laughter.
‘What a splendid idea! The Princess getting tired of propriety and making appointments in London! Little fool! do you think I should care one straw? Why shouldn’t you amuse yourself?’
Alice looked at him with eyes of wondering misery.
‘Do you mean that you don’t care enough for me to—to—’