There was a sudden snapping of dry leaves. A small foot had come down with emphasis.
“What do you mean?”
“That this is no place for a woman, and that you must go.”
“I’m not—well, I am, and I don’t care in the least whether you know it or not. I wish you to understand, sir, that I shall stay here, and that I am not in the habit of being dictated to.”
“You are Miss Belmont, I suppose.”
An instant’s pause. Then she replied with a haughty pluck which delighted him: “Yes, I am Miss Belmont, and you are an insolent Englishman.”
“How do you know that I am an Englishman?”
“Anyone could tell from your voice and your overbearing manner.”
“Well, I am,” said Clive, much amused.
“I detest Englishmen.”