"You have said a most terrible thing. You have accused this--my friend of a great crime, and you mean to have her punished. Why? Not for any honourable or upright reason, but because you are so angry with her that you are like a madman, and want to strike at her somehow, you don't care how. That seems to me to be very paltry."
"Oh, indeed; I never asked for your opinion!" he said.
"I never asked you to go into a frenzy of rage," Caroline answered; "one good turn deserves another. If you try to frighten me out of my life, I am at liberty to tell you what I think of you; and what I think is not pleasant."
Sir Samuel sat down again, and looked at her steadily. She had a defiant--a picturesque air, standing against the door.
"I don't care what any one thinks," he said. "I'm the best judge of my own actions."
"Are you?" Caroline laughed. "Well, then, there must be something very wrong with you, even a schoolboy knows it is only a coward who hits a woman." She caught her breath. "I should not have taken you to be a coward, Sir Samuel."
He put his eyeglass into his eye, and looked at her again.
His anger began to subside. As he fixed Caroline with a steady gaze, he unconsciously settled his collar, and fingered his tie.
"You're an odd sort of girl. Always thought you couldn't say 'Boo' to a goose, and here you are going at me as if you were made of fire."
Caroline laughed, such a tired, miserable laugh.
"You have never spoken to me before," she said.
"No, by Jove! but I've wanted to, many a time. I'm sure I've looked at you hard enough. First time I saw you, that night you threw my glove back at me, do you remember? I took a fancy to you."
Her heart was quaking. She was horribly afraid of him, but this fear was as nothing compared to that withering, awful one of a few moments before. She moved away from the door, turning the handle, and pulling it open as she went.
"Yes, really; but you know it; every pretty woman knows her own power."
He made her change colour; she was very interesting.
He was not sure that her head was not prettier than Camilla's; and her eyes were glorious. His critical glance travelled over her body; the lines were perfect; she stood so well. When he arrived at her feet, and saw her mud-stained boots, he frowned.