Strange started forward and was about to speak, she raised her hand imperiously.
“Stop!” she cried, “I must finish, I want you quite clearly to understand that if I take you at your word and become your wife—wife,” she repeated, “how astonishing the word sounds in connection with me!”
She laughed in an untranslatable way and went on,
“Remember and understand that I am doing it as an experiment.”
He flushed, it was his own precise thought but it seemed less hideous when thought than when spoken.
“An experiment,” she repeated, “but whether it is fair to try experiments in lives is another matter. I wish—” she cast a half-wistful, half-provoked look at him, “I wish you were sufficiently clear and reasonable yourself to help me to answer the question—I am so ignorant in these matters.”
A sudden crimson rushed to her cheeks, she was furious. What right had she to blush like a dairy-maid and mislead the man?
“I’m not blushing properly, as girls ought to blush,” she explained, “I am merely angry, I feel caught in a trap. Why can’t I tell you to begone and leave me at peace?” she demanded, looking at him with curious swift repulsion, “I have never found any difficulty before,—why don’t you help me?”
In spite of his love, Strange shook with laughter.
It was no laughing matter for Gwen, she kept her eyes fixed on him, angry and full of pain.