“It’s only natural. You were not like everybody ... once. Now that I am meeting you just as I meet everybody, it interests me to know how it came about.”
“From weakness, you think? Is that your secret idea?”
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps you are right. And, if it were so, would you despise me?”
The conversation was getting on her nerves. She tried to evade it:
“You may be weak, you may be strong,” she said, irritably. “I don’t know ... and ... it doesn’t interest me so very much.”
“It did just now.”
Again she looked up quickly, with the quick, nervous grace of all her movements, and it flashed upon her that he was very angry with her, very hostile towards her.
“Aunt Constance!” she called. “Do come and help me. Mr. Brauws isn’t at all nice.”
Constance came up.