The spell was broken as he caught her hands in his. The sense of being fascinated had passed away, leaving Glynne Day in the full possession of her faculties, and the thought of the duty she owed another, as she started to her feet, saying words that came to her lips, not from her heart, but she knew not how they were inspired, as she spoke with all the angry dignity of an outraged woman.
“How dare you?” she exclaimed, in a tone that made him shrink from her. “How dare you speak to me, your sister’s friend, like this? It is an insult, Mr Alleyne, and that you know.”
“How dare I?” he cried, recovering himself. “An insult? No, no! you do not mean this. Glynne, for pity’s sake, do not speak to me such words as these.”
“Mr Alleyne, I can but repeat them,” she said excitedly, “it is an insult, or you must be mad.”
“I thank you,” he said, changing his tone of voice, and speaking calmly, evidently by a tremendous effort over himself. “Yes, I must be mad—you here?”
“Yes, I am here,” cried Rolph fiercely, for he had come up behind them unobserved with Lucy, who had vainly tried to stop him, following, looking white, and trembling visibly. “What is the meaning of this? Glynne, why are you here? What has this man been saying?”
There was no reply. Alleyne standing stern and frowning, and Glynne looking wildly from one to the other unable to speak.
“I heard you say something about an insult,” cried Rolph hotly; “has the blackguard dared—”
“Take me back home, Robert,” said Glynne, in a strangely altered voice.
“Then tell me first,” cried Rolph. “How dare he speak to you, what does he mean?”