And there was hate in her eyes.
I had not been to parties often; certainly I had never before heard such a tone at any of the few I had been to. I said:
“Aren't you afraid of being misunderstood, Edwarda?”
“Oh, but how? Possibly, of course, but how?”
“You sometimes speak without thinking. Just now, for instance, it seemed to me as if you were actually telling me to go to the kitchen and stay there; and that, of course, must be a misunderstanding—I know quite well that you did not intend to be so rude.”
She walked a few paces away from us. I could see by her manner that she was thinking all the time of what I had said. She turned round, came back, and said breathlessly:
“It was no misunderstanding, Lieutenant; you heard correctly—I did tell you to go to the kitchen.”
“Oh, Edwarda!” broke out the terrified governess.
And I began talking again about the war and the state of affairs in the Crimea; but my thoughts were far distant. I was no longer intoxicated, only hopelessly confused. The earth seemed fading from under my feet, and I lost my composure, as at so many unfortunate times before. I got up from the sofa and made as if to go out. The Doctor stopped me.
“I have just been hearing your praises,” he said.