“What is the matter? May I take you downstairs?”
“Oh no,” she cried, pushing away his hand, and dashing the tears from her eyes.
“Mr Jeffreys, I am so sorry, do forgive me!” and she ran upstairs to her own room.
Jeffreys and Scarfe stood facing one another.
“What is the meaning of this?” said the latter wrathfully.
“It would not interest you. I was telling Miss Atherton about my dog.”
“Hang your dog! Did not I tell you that I did not choose for you to obtrude yourself on Raby?”
“You did, and I should be sorry to obtrude myself on any one, whether you choose it or not.”
“You appear to forget, Cad Jeffreys—”
“I forget nothing—not even that I am keeping you from your breakfast.”