“Are the horses standing out there in the cold? Wouldn’t you like to tell him to take them to the barn?”
“I suppose he can look after his own horses. They’re nothing but old hacks, anyhow.” He leaned forward abruptly and took her hand, pressing it closely. “Oh!” he said. “I’ve been wild to see you again.”
Patience attempted to jerk her hand away, acutely conscious of a desire to return his clasp. She did the worst thing possible, but the only thing that could be expected: she lost her head. “I don’t like you to do that,” she exclaimed. “Let me go! What do you mean, anyhow?”
“That you are the loveliest woman I ever saw. I have been wild about you—” He had taken her other hand, and his face was close to hers. He had lowered his lids slightly.
“And you think that because I am alone here you can say what you like?” she cried passionately. “You would not dare act like this with one of your mother’s guests!”
“Oh, wouldn’t I?” He laughed disagreeably. “But what is the use of being a goose—”
Patience sprang to her feet, overturning her chair: but she only succeeded in pulling him to his feet also; he would not release her hands.
“I wish you would leave the house,” she said, stamping her foot. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll call Ellen.”
“Oh, don’t make a goose of yourself. And I’m not afraid of a servant. I’m not going to murder you—nor anything else. Only,—do you drive all men wild like this?”
“I don’t know anything about men,” almost sobbed Patience, “and I don’t want to. Will you go?”