“For the two things,” he replied, with asperity.
“Ah!” she said, and her hand, trembling a little, found the handle of her parasol. Again she made as if to go away without greeting him, without turning round.
“Are you offended?” he cried to her back; “you will end by hating me.”
“I am not offended,” she replied, stopping with lowered eyes and speaking slowly; “I have tamed my pride, Emilio, in the contact of life, and I am not offended. I can hate no one.”
He looked at her peculiarly and gloomily, with the strange insistence of a man who wished to extract a tremendous secret from a glance. But she did not see it. The question which was trembling on Emilio’s lips disappeared. He lapsed again into confusion and silence.
“Are you going to your bank?” she asked, to say something.
“Yes, for a moment,” he replied absently.
“Shall you come home to lunch?”
“Yes, at the usual hour.”
“What are you going to do afterwards?”