Oscar obeyed.
"Put your arm round my waist."
Oscar looked at me. Having the use of his sight, he was sensible of the absurd side of the demonstration required of him—in the presence of a third person. She, poor soul, strong in her blind insensibility to all shafts of ridicule shot from the eye, cared nothing for the presence of a third person. She repeated her commands, in a tone which said sharply, "Embrace me—I am not to be trifled with."
Oscar timidly put his arm round her waist—with an appealing look at me. She issued another command instantly.
"Say you love me."
Oscar hesitated.
"Say you love me!"
Oscar whispered it.
"Out loud!"
Endurance has its limits: I began to lose my temper. She could not have been more superbly indifferent to my presence, if there had been a cat in the room instead of a lady.