“But I must explain; ’twas a madness of the blood. You do not understand——”
“And gin I never understand, Mr. Montagu, the lift (sky) will not fall. Here iss a great to-do about nothing,” she flung back with a kind of bitter jauntiness.
“Aileen,” I cried, a little wildly, “you will not cast me off without a hearing. Somehow I must make it clear, and you must try——”
“My name it iss Miss Macleod, and I would think it clear enough already at all events. I will be thanking you to let me pass, sir.”
Her words bit, not less the scorch of her eyes. My heart was like running water.
“And is this an end to all— Will you let so small a thing put a period to our good comradeship?” I cried.
“Since you mention it I would never deny that I am under obligations to you, sir, which my brother will be blithe to repay——”
“By Heaven, I never mentioned obligations; I never thought of them. Is there no friendship in your heart for me?”
“Your regard iss a thing I have valued, but”—there was a little break in the voice which she rode over roughshod—“I can very well be getting along without the friendships of that girl’s lover.”
She snatched open the gate and flung past me to the house, this superb young creature, tall, slim, supple, a very Diana in her rage, a woman too if one might judge by the breasts billowing with rising sobs. More slow I followed, quite dashed to earth. All that I had gained by months of service in one moment had been lost. She would think me another of the Volney stamp, and her liking for me would turn to hate as with him.