"In those climates, the passions are not cramped by the swaddling clothes of civilisation; their franker natures better suit my own impulsiveness; when they love they love—they do not stultify their hearts with intricate sophisms."
Violet now raised her large eyes, and, with mournful steadiness, reproached him by a look, for the words he had just uttered. He met her look with one as steady, but flashing with scorn.
"Well, for my part," said Vyner, tapping his snuff-box, "Brazil would have little attraction for me, especially if the women are violent. I can't bear violent women."
Marmaduke had expected some remark from Violet in answer to his speech; but that one look was her only answer, and she was now as intently examining the carpet as before. He noticed her paleness, and the concentrated calmness of her manner, and it irritated him the more.
Blanche, with true feminine sagacity, saw it was desirable, in every case, that Violet should have an opportunity of speaking with him alone, so walked out of the room, and in a few minutes sent the servant with a message to Vyner that he was wanted for an instant down stairs.
The lovers were now alone, and horribly embarrassed. They wanted to break the uneasy silence, but neither of them could utter a word.
At last Violet, feeling that it was imperative on her to say something, murmured, without looking at him,—
"And when do you start?"
"On Monday."
Another pause ensued; perhaps worse this time than before, because of the unsuccessful attempt.