“I am not going to kiss you,” he said again. That appeared to be his last defense in any case.
She made no answer to that, except to deny it with her eyes.
“You’re a witch!” he cried, drawing away from her suddenly. “A positive instrument of the devil. Leave me alone!”
“Why?”
“Why? Because I am going to marry Marie. Because, for Hanaré’s sake, I’m going to forget you. I was a fool last night.”
“Last night you said you’d rather be a fool than a wise man. I suppose you have forgotten that also.”
He cringed. “No,” he said, “I have not forgotten that.” He began wandering about the room as though hunting for something, picking up piles of papers, looking underneath the tables and chairs.
“What are you hunting for?” she asked.
“My hat.”