"What?"
"Are you trying to kiss me?"
That is what I was trying to do. She twisted herself free and stepped aside; and I saw the rapid pulse in her white throat and the irregular flutter of her bosom.
For a moment the old blaze flamed once more in her gray eyes and I expected a most terrifying wigging, but all she said was: "You are very rough with me," in a small and breathless voice; and, suddenly, to my astonishment, turned her back and laid her head on the handle of her broom.
"Thusis——"
"Please d-don't speak to me."
"I only——"
"I ask you to go."
So I went, leaving her standing there with her clasped hands on the broom supporting her bowed head.
Smith was sulkily smoking his pipe. Clelia, beautiful and indifferent, leaned against the sideboard, awaiting the advent of royalty in the breakfast-room.