This promise was given heartily enough, if in a low voice. Otho, with a sneering laugh, let him pass, and then turned to Magdalen. ‘I suppose you are not too overcome to go into the other room,’ he said. ‘Shall I take you there?’ ‘I shall go when I am ready,’ replied Magdalen, coldly. ‘You are at liberty to go as soon as ever you please.’ ‘Not I!’ said he, throwing himself into a chair near to her. ‘I’ve worked hard enough to get your society. I’m not going to quit it the instant I have secured it.’ Here the choir were again summoned to the front, and they were left alone. Otho had spoken of having worked hard to obtain Magdalen’s company, but he sat in silence till towards the end of the chorus, when, as it was the last thing in the first part of the concert, Magdalen rose, and began to gather up her shawl. ‘Now I shall go,’ she remarked. ‘All right!’ said he. ‘But listen to me, Magdalen; you must let me see you home, and I’ll tell you the meaning of this.’ ‘As if I required to know the meaning of it!’ she said, bitterly. ‘It is pure malice and viciousness on your part, Otho. Meaning, indeed!’ ‘You know nothing in the world about it.’ ‘I cannot talk about it now. I am not going to enter into an argument with you. You have made me feel ill already.’ ‘Then settle matters by promising that I shall go home with you; or I vow you shall hear me in this very room. I intend to have it out with you to-night, do you hear?’ ‘Very well—as we go home,’ said Magdalen, very coldly. And, as the door opened to admit the returning performers, and the interval had begun, they took their way to the concert-room, and joined their party. CHAPTER XXVI HER HEART’S DESIRE