box without
making an encouraging comment upon it. Laura waited for him to remark
that her sister obviously would turn up now; but no such words fell from
his lips. He must either like Selina's being away or judge it damningly,
and in either case why didn't he speak? If he had nothing to say, why
_had_ he said, why had he done, what did he mean----? But the girl's
inward challenge to him lost itself in a mist of faintness; she was
screwing herself up to a purpose of her own, and it hurt almost to
anguish, and the whole place, around her, was a blur and swim, through
which she heard the tuning of fiddles. Before she knew it she had said
to him, 'Why have you come so often?'

'So often? To see you, do you mean?'

'To see _me_--it was for that? Why have you come?' she went on. He was
evidently surprised, and his surprise gave her a point of anger, a
desire almost that her words should hurt him, lash him. She spoke low,
but she heard herself, and she thought that if what she said sounded to
_him_ in the same way----! 'You have come very often--too often, too
often!'

He coloured, he looked frightened, he was, clearly, extremely startled.
'Why, you have been so kind, so delightful,' he stammered.

'Yes, of course, and so have you! Did you come for Selina? She is
married, you know, and devoted to her husband.' A single minute had
sufficed to show the girl that her companion was quite unprepared for
her question, that he was distinctly not in love with her and was face
to face with a situation entirely new. The effect of this perception was
to make her say wilder things.

'Why, what is more natural, when one likes people, than to come often?
Perhaps I have bored you--with our American way,' said Mr. Wendover.

'And is it because you like me that you have kept me here?' Laura asked.
She got up, leaning against the side of the box; she had pulled the
curtain far forward and was out of sight of the house.

He rose, but more slowly; he had got over his first confusion. He
smiled at her, but his smile was dreadful. 'Can you have any doubt as to
what I have come for? It's a pleasure to me that you have liked me well
enough to ask.'

For an instant she thought he was coming nearer to her, but he didn't:
he stood there twirling his gloves. Then an unspeakable shame and
horror--horror of herself, of him, of everything--came over her, and she
sank into a chair at the back of the box, with averted eyes, trying to
get further i