Nina thought of Miss Marsden’s words, “Even good dogs will bite,” and answered meekly in the affirmative.
“Don’t you suppose I have been watching you during the last two days?”
“Have you?” she said, quickly.
He smiled. “I know every breath you draw. There is nothing of the coquette about you. You like to admire men at a distance. Near at hand they frighten you. A caress from any man but myself would send you into hysterics.”
This smacked so strongly of self-conceit that Nina was goaded into a retort. “No, it doesn’t,” she cried, hastily.
“It doesn’t,” he repeated, haughtily; “it wouldn’t, I suppose you mean.”
“I mean what I say,” she replied, stubbornly.
His face, already alarmingly pale, took on a yet more sickly hue. He put a hand to his head, and raised himself on his elbow. “Nina, has that fellow dared—”
His voice choked, he was really in a passion now.
“Yes, he has dared,” she said, slowly. There was a short pause; then, overcome by sudden fright at the expression overspreading his face, she rattled on, “But he only squeezed my hand, and I ran to my room and washed it. But that wasn’t what I meant.”