‘No, no, your Magnificence,’ he said. ‘That belongs to the past, to the old nursery days, here and at Hover, when I was too small to hit back. I have grown up since then, and we are more evenly matched.’
Ought I to interfere? To do so was to risk losing Hartover’s trust and affection for ever. Therefore I thought, and still think, not.
Meanwhile, whether contact with physical force—to her a novel experience—tamed her, or whether conscience was the determining factor, I am uncertain; but—
‘You young boor!’ she exclaimed; and there ended all direct protest. For, at once, she began to try and make terms with him—an uneasiness, not to say an edge of fear, perceptible behind the fine chill of her manner. ‘Pray, what do you expect to gain by insulting me thus?’
‘What I have never succeeded in gaining before—a clear stage and no favour.’
‘Be a little more explicit, please—that is, if you really have anything to be explicit about.’
‘Oh! dear, yes; plenty, plenty. I’ve no lack of material,’ Hartover answered. ‘But won’t you come and sit down, since you are tired, so that we may talk it over comfortably?’
And, releasing one hand, the boy led her across the lovely room to a large white and gold settee—prettily, as he might have led some charming partner after a dance—and, finally, sat down there beside her.
‘Is it necessary that a third person be present,’ she asked, ‘at this extraordinary interview?’