"Now, what's the use of turning cross, Bianca?" continued Herbert, still laughing. "You are as exacting as if I paid you a guinea a lesson, and went upon a system of 'no lesson, no pay.' If——"
"Bah!" interrupted mademoiselle angrily: and it certainly was not respectful of Herbert, as pupil, to call her by her Christian name—if it was that which angered her. "I am getting nearly tired of it all."
"Tired of me! You might have a worse pupil——"
"Will you be quiet, then!" cried she, stamping her foot. "I am not inclined for folly to-night. You shall not say again you are coming here, if you don't come, mind, as you did on Saturday night."
"Well, I had an engagement, and I went straight off from the dinner-table to keep it," answered Herbert, becoming serious. "Upon my word of honour it was not my fault, Bianca; it was a business engagement. I had not time to come here before I went."
"Then you might have come when you returned," she said.
"Scarcely," replied he. "I was not home till two in the morning."
Bianca Varsini lifted her strange eyes to his. "Why tell me that?" she asked, her voice changing to one of mournful complaint. "I know you went out from dinner—I watched you out; and I saw you when you went out again. It was past ten. I saw you with my own eyes."
"You must have good eyes, Bianca. I went out from the dinner-table——"
"Not then—not then; I speak not of then," she vehemently interrupted. "You might have come here before you went out the second time."