“Well, Kitty, don’t you think it is about time to give somebody the right? Why won’t you look up at me, so that I can tell for sure whether I should have accused you of crying? Look up—Miss Bartlett.”
“Please let me go, Mr. Yates. Mother will be here in a minute.”
“Mother is a wise and thoughtful woman. We’ll risk mother. Besides, I’m not in the least afraid of her, and I don’t believe you are. I think she is at this moment giving poor Mr. Stoliker a piece of her mind; otherwise, I imagine, he would have followed me. I saw it in his eye.”
“I hate that man,” said Kitty inconsequently.
“I like him, because he brought me here, even if I was handcuffed. Kitty, why don’t you look up at me? Are you afraid?”
“What should I be afraid of?” asked Kitty, giving him one swift glance from her pretty blue eyes. “Not of you, I hope.”
“Well, Kitty, I sincerely hope not. Now, Miss Bartlett, do you know why I came out here?”
“For something more to eat, very likely,” said the girl mischievously.
“Oh, I say, that to a man in captivity is both cruel and unkind. Besides, I had a first-rate breakfast, thank you. No such motive drew me into the kitchen. But I will tell you. You shall have it from my own lips. That was the reason!”
He suited the action to the word, and kissed her before she knew what was about to happen. At least, Yates, with all his experience, thought he had taken her unawares. Men often make mistakes in little matters of this kind. Kitty pushed him with apparent indignation from her, but she did not strike him across the face, as she had done before, when he merely attempted what he had now accomplished. Perhaps this was because she had been taken so completely by surprise.