He smiled a little and took my face between his hands.
"I am a savage," he admitted, though not at all bearing the appearance of one at that moment; "but I've had a lot to try me lately—and then I was so disgusted when I came home and found that mother had let Evelyn dance herself into another of these attacks."
"Oh, Richard! Surely you don't really think it was the dance that brought it on? It might have been the dinner—but I shouldn't even suggest that to your mother. She is miserable enough already. You ought to try to comfort her."
"That's very charitable of you," he said, a sarcastic little flicker around the corners of his mouth, "but, all the same, I find that I can manage my womenkind better to use a little frankness with them occasionally."
I drew back from him somewhat.
"Frankness?" I cried in genuine surprise at his cold sarcasm. "Even if frankness were the right name for—this, do you consider that now is the time for it? When she is so wretched?"
He turned from me and threw down the paper he had picked up a moment before as I stood talking to him.
"Let's don't quarrel," he said finally, in a low tone; and, impulsively reaching out both hands to me, he added: "And, Ann, for God's sake, don't ever act as if you were afraid of me!"
"Afraid of you!"
He smiled. I think he has the most adorable smile of any man on earth.