'With a gentleman?'
'With Mr. Wendover—that American, and something too dreadful happened.'
'Dear me, did he kiss you?' asked Lady Davenant.
Laura got up quickly, turning away. 'Good-bye, I'm going, I'm going!' And in reply to an irritated, protesting exclamation from her companion she went on, 'Anywhere—anywhere to get away!'
'To get away from your American?'
'I asked him to marry me!' The girl turned round with her tragic face.
'He oughtn't to have left that to you.'
'I knew this horror was coming and it took possession of me, there in the box, from one moment to the other—the idea of making sure of some other life, some protection, some respectability. First I thought he liked me, he had behaved as if he did. And I like him, he is a very good man. So I asked him, I couldn't help it, it was too hideous—I offered myself!' Laura spoke as if she were telling that she had stabbed him, standing there with dilated eyes.
Lady Davenant got up again and went to her; drawing off her glove she felt her cheek with the back of her hand. 'You are ill, you are in a fever. I'm sure that whatever you said it was very charming.'
'Yes, I am ill,' said Laura.