"Now, Nell," he says, and there is no laughter in his voice, it is very grave; "I want to know what you mean by this stupid behaviour?"
Stupid behaviour! I never heard of a man saying such a thing as that to his lady love before; and I thought Paul was so hopelessly, drivellingly, besottedly in love with me. . . .
"I think it is you who have been stupid," I say blankly.
"What did you say to me when I asked you to———?"
"That will do," I say hastily; "we have discussed all that before."
"And do you call that a proper way to speak to me?"
No answer.
"Do you call it a proper thing to throw books at my head?"
"Do you call it a proper thing to read a newspaper before me?"
"Certainly; if you are sulky and will not speak to me."
"You were sulky too."
"I spoke to you."
"And I answered you."
"In a nice manner."
"I had better not speak to you at all," I say with dignity: "perhaps you will allow me to leave you, Mr. Vasher?"
"Presently. Now, Nell, do you think that because we are lovers we are to be careless of each other's feelings? The most passionate love that ever existed between man and woman would make neither happy if consideration did not form a part of it. Do you think I would wound you as you did me ten minutes ago; do you think I could ever make such a speech to you as you did to me
"Is it only ten minutes ago?" I say, looking at the clock; "it seems like ten hours."
"Are you sorry that you made it, Nell?"
I lift my head and look him in the face silently, and for a minute I have a sharp, short struggle with myself, then, for I love him very dearly, I say "Yes."
