“I don’t understand you,” said Angela, defiantly, folding her arms across her bosom and looking him full in the face with fearless eyes, for her instinct warned her that she was in danger, and also that, whatever she might feel, she must not show that she was afraid.
“I shall hope to make you do so before long,” he replied, with a meaning glance; “but you are not very polite, you know, you do not offer me a seat.”
“I beg your pardon, I did not know that you wanted to sit down. I can only offer you a choice of those stones.”
“Then call that brute away, and I will sit down.”
“The dog is not a brute, as you mean it. But I should not speak of him like that, if I were you. He is sensible as a human being, and might resent it.”
Angela knew that George was a coward about dogs; and at that moment, as though to confirm her words, Aleck growled slightly.
“Ah, indeed; well, he is certainly a handsome dog;” and he sat down suspiciously. “Won’t you come and sit down?”
“Thank you. I prefer to stand.”
“Do you know what you look like, standing there with your arms crossed? You look like an angry goddess.”
“If you mean that seriously, I don’t understand you. If it is a compliment, I don’t like compliments.”