Cadbury released her arm and drew back; he knew not precisely what she meant, but tugged his white moustache and thought—
'What the deuce does she mean by Bottom's ears?'
It sounded like a rebuff, anyway, and as such he accepted it—or rather resented it.
'Do compliments displease you?' said he, becoming insinuating again; 'they are but a form of kindness.'
'I take them from you as I would from papa; they pass thus, although a younger man might offend.'
Cadbury, whose head was stooped towards her, erected it, lest her glance might be falling on the little bald patch which he was so terribly conscious of being apparent now, and he shivered with annoyance, and felt wrathful at the girl he was so desirous of pleasing.
'Will you sing for me?' said he, after a pause, 'I am so fond of music.'
'What shall I sing?' asked Alison, seating herself at the piano, and glad to change the tenor of a conversation in which she felt herself ungracious.
'One of your Scottish—one of your national songs.'
'"Auld Robin Gray?"' she asked, mischievously.