"You had no business to tease me," she said.
"Come here, Dove," he said, taking her by the arm and leading her back; "do you know what the effect of cayenne is on the human throat?"
"I don't care."
"I say you might have killed me."
"I don't care."
"Now, if I were a young man, I should probably be proud of such a mark of your favour, but——"
"It served you right. I can't bear people to talk to me like that, and you always do it, papa—you know you do."
"But, as I am an old man, I mean to have my revenge. Firstly, there shall be no dogcart or other vehicle leave this house this day for Horton Station. Secondly, should any guest arrive, he will be asked to follow me over to the East Meadows, where I shall be shooting. Thirdly, should that guest dine with us, he will be confined to the dining-room during the entire evening, and any persons waiting in the drawing-room may play 'The Coulin,' or such music as they prefer, for their own benefit. Fourthly——"
"Fourthly, none of these things will happen," said Dove, with a touch of contempt in her tone.
And Dove was right. For she herself was driven in the dogcart over to Horton Station, and she took care to make the man start half an hour before the proper time. The station-master, then and now one of the civillest of men, endeavoured to relieve the tedium of waiting by chatting to her; but she only half listened to him, and talked nonsense in reply.