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He was biting an end
of his brown moustache, and looked annoyed, yet lazily amused too.
"Upon my life, Clara," he observed, "you are really awfully down on a
fellow, you know! One would think you never cared two-pence about me!"
"Too high a figure!" retorted Lady Winsleigh, with a hard little laugh.
"I never cared a brass farthing!"
He stopped short in his walk and stared at her.
"By Jove! you _are_ cool!" he ejaculated. "Then what did you mean all
the time?"
"What did _you_ mean?" she asked defiantly.
He was silent. After a slight, uncomfortable pause, he shrugged his
shoulders and smiled.
"Don't let us have a scene!" he observed in a bantering tone. "Anything
but that!"
"Scene!" she exclaimed indignantly. "Pray when have you had to complain
of me on that score?"
"Well, don't let me have to complain now," he said coolly.
She surveyed him in silent scorn for a moment, and her full, crimson
lips curled contemptuously.
"What a brute you are!" she muttered suddenly between her set pearly
teeth.


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