"But I don’t want to know. Will nothing make you see that it doesn’t matter a bit to me——"
"He declined to say anything when he found I didn’t know——"
"Lily Martin, of course; the girl who was my mother’s companion."
"Oh, yes, I remember. He said that your mother had rather a shattering experience."
"I suppose she had. Yes, it was a shock," he replied slowly. "Look here, dry your eyes and sit down to tea, and I’ll tell you afterwards, if you’ll promise not to go away at the end of your month. This place is quite jolly in fine weather."
She sat down to table and poured fresh tea. "I have no doubt it is," said she. "You will enjoy showing it to my successor. You should explain to her, however, when offering her the post, that she is to be your companion, and not Madam’s."
"Now you’re not playing fair. No good to say you forgive me and then stab me in the back."
"I don’t think I have forgiven you. At least, I haven’t said so."
He looked at her with puzzled eyes. "You try living here ten years, with never a soul to speak to, and see if you don’t make an ass of yourself the first time you get the chance," he remarked presently.
She did not answer, but took up the catalogue and made a little talk about the folding chairs depicted in the illustrations.
He gave but a divided attention and ate hardly anything. At last he pushed back his chair with determination. "Now will you please listen?"
She rose with decision. "Once for all, Mr. Guyse, I will _not_ listen. I have already told you that I don’t want to hear anything at all about it." As she spoke she was moving as if to go out of the room. He rose, with panther-like swiftness, and stood between her and the door. "You’ve got to listen," he said.
Olwen’s heart gave a throb, and for a moment she was afraid. Then she remembered how quickly Ninian had been disarmed by the sight of her distress. She lifted a beseeching face to him.
"Please, Mr. Guyse! Please believe what I say. I would rather know nothing of your private affairs. I am not likely to remain long at the Pele, and it is best that we remain strangers."
"We can’t do that," he said with sharp decision. "Ask Sunia."
"Your spy!" she said, throwing into the words an amount of scorn which brought the colour to his face. He did not falter, however. Taking her arm, just above the elbow, he led her to the hearth, and pushed her gently into a chair. "This is the last time I am going to misbehave," said he. "After this you shall do as you like with me; but you have got to hear me now. Sorry, but really you’ve got to."