And, almost before she guessed his intention, he had opened his umbrella and drawn her hand through his arm.
"You can't get wet now," he said.
"Would you like really to know what I think of you?" Laline asked, in a low and rather unsteady voice.
"Yes—even though I am sure it will hurt me!"
"I think," she said, with much deliberation, "that, in a very cruel and cowardly manner, you are taking advantage of the fact that I am a friendless dependant to treat me with a flirting familiarity which you would not dare to show towards a lady whom you considered your equal!"
He could feel that the hand on his arm was quivering, as was her whole frame, with excitement and anger.
"Is that what you think of me?" he asked, quietly.
"It is. And, if you wish me to retain any respect for you, or ever to speak to you when I am forced to meet you in my employer's house, you will leave me at once, Mr. Armstrong."
"Surely not in the snow, without an umbrella?" he suggested, still unmoved.
She withdrew her hand sharply from his arm, biting her lips with vexation.