Claude, in spite of himself, grew red and all his body felt suddenly stiff.
"I beg your pardon," he said. "But I was working, and—"
He touched her powerful hand.
"You had sprouted your oak, and I have forced it. I know it's much too bad of me."
He saw that she could not believe she was wholly unwanted by such a man as he was, in such a little house as he had. People always wanted her. Her frankness in running after him showed him her sense of her position, her popularity, her attraction. How could she think she was undignified? No doubt she thought him an oddity who must be treated unconventionally. He felt savage, but he felt flattered.
"I'll show her what I am!" was his thought.
Yet already, as he begged her to sit down on one of his chintz-covered chairs, he felt a sort of reluctant pleasure in being with her.
"May I give you some tea?"
Her hazel eyes still seemed to him full of laughter. Evidently she regarded him as a boy.
"No, thank you! I won't be so cruel as to accept."