"Didn't I throw straight?" she said, triumphantly. "And they say girls can't throw."
"But why did you throw at all?" he said, capturing her hand.
"Because I wanted to talk to you. And I was restless and couldn't sleep. Why did you never come and talk to me this afternoon? And why"—she beat her foot angrily—"did you let me go and play billiards alone with Mr. Cliffe?"
"Let you!" cried Ashe. "As if anybody could have prevented you!"
"One sees, of course, that you detest Mr. Cliffe," said the whiteness beside him.
"I didn't come here to talk about Geoffrey Cliffe. I won't talk about him! Though, of course, you must know—"
"That I flirted with him abominably all the afternoon? C'est vrai—c'est ab-sol-ument vrai! And I shall always want to flirt with him, wherever I am—and whatever I may be doing."
"Do as you please," said Ashe, dryly, "but I think you will get tired."
"No, no—he excites me! He is bad, false, selfish, but he excites me. He talks to very few women—one can see that. And all the women want to talk to him. He used to admire Miss Lyster, and now he dislikes her. But she doesn't dislike him. No! she would marry him to-morrow if he asked her."
"You are very positive," said Ashe. "Allow me to say that I entirely disagree with you."