She was quite vexed now.
“You are very unkind,” she said. “You speak ill-naturedly of everybody, and are cross with me on my birthday! I won’t speak to you, Frank, again this evening; there, see if I do!” and she turned away from me with a tremble in her voice, and an indignant look in the, now, flashing, grey eyes.
She kept her promise.
Much as I tried, when my ill-temper had subsided, to get speech with her, I was not allowed a word. Even when leaving the house, I only received a bow. She would not shake hands, to show that I was forgiven.
I had stopped to the very last in order to sit out Horner. He would not budge first, and I would not budge first; so now we started off together, our homeward routes being identical.
You may imagine that I felt very amicably disposed towards him. I was ripe for a quarrel, or at least a separation; and Horner soon gave me an opening.
He began to praise Min’s looks and voice, and the manner in which she had sung the songs he had asked her for, including the one he had given her that evening.
Really, the cool impudence of Horner was something astounding! What right had he to criticise her? He spoke just as if she belonged to him, I assure you!
This was too much, after what I had already gone through.
“Which way are you going?” I asked him suddenly.