“I know what you mean,” he admitted. “I hypnotized you into coming here, and you are aware of it.”
Pink to the ears with resentment and confusion, she sat up very straight and stared at him. From a pretty girl defiant, she became an angry beauty. And he quailed.
“Did you imagine that you hypnotized me?” she asked, incredulously.
“What was it, then?” he muttered. “You did everything I wished for—”
“What did you wish for?”
“I—I thought you needed the sun, and as soon as I said that you ought to go out, you—you put on that big, black hat. And then I wished I knew you—I wished you would come here to the wistaria arbor, and—you came.”
“In other words,” she said, disdainfully, “you deliberately planned to control my mind and induce me to meet you in a clandestine and horrid manner.”
“I never looked at it in that way. I only knew I admired you a lot, and—and you were tremendously charming—more so than my sketch—”
“What sketch?”
“I—you see, I made a little sketch,” he admitted—“a little picture of you—”