“I wish you would try and understand, Horry,” he said. “You will not leave my house tonight.”
“N-not leave your house—oh, you are m-mad!” Horatia said with conviction.
“Then be mad with me, love,” Lethbridge said, and put his hand on her cloak to remove it.
“D-don’t call me “love”!” choked Horatia. “Why—why you are trying to ruin me!”
“That’s as you choose, my dear,” he said. “I’m ready—yes, I’m ready to run away with you, or you may return home in the morning and tell what tale you please.”
“You m-make a habit of running away with f-females, do you not?” said Horatia.
His brows contracted, but only for a moment. “So you have that story, have you? Let us say that I make a habit of running away with the females of your family.”
“I,” said Horatia, “am a W-Winwood, which you will find makes a vast d-difference. You can’t force me to elope with you.”
“I shan’t try,” he replied coolly. “Yet I believe we might deal extremely together, you and I. There’s something about you, Horry, which is infinitely alluring. I could make you love me, you know.”
“N-now I know what is the m-matter with you!” exclaimed Horatia, suddenly enlightened. “You’re drunk!”