Her arms were still round him. It struck me that he felt her influence. “If you wish me to recover myself,” he said, gently, “you had better let me go.”
“Oh, how cruel, Philip, to leave me when I am so wretched! Why do you want to go?”
“You told me just now what I ought to do,” he answered, still restraining himself. “If I am to get the better of my temper, I must be left alone.”
“I never said anything about your temper, darling.”
“Didn’t you tell me to control myself?”
“Oh, yes! Go back to Papa, and beg him to forgive you.”
“I’ll see him damned first!”
If ever a stupid girl deserved such an answer as this, the girl was my sister. I had hitherto (with some difficulty) refrained from interfering. But when Eunice tried to follow Philip out of the house, I could hesitate no longer; I held her back. “You fool,” I said; “haven’t you made mischief enough already?”
“What am I to do?” she burst out, helplessly.
“Do what I told you to do yesterday—wait.”