“Rahas!” A great flood of crimson blood mounted to her face, glowed in her cheeks, and heightened the brilliancy of her eyes, which flashed a liquid light of haughty indignation from china-blue white and velvet-brown iris. “Rahas! What right has he to speak? He has no claim in the world upon me!” Evidently the impetuous little lady and the despised Rahas, whatever their relation to each other might be, had been expressing a mutual difference of opinion. The Englishman watched with equal measure of admiration and astonishment the rise of the sudden wave of passion which seemed almost incredibly strong for such a small creature to sustain. She was struck in the midst of her anger by the expression of his face. “What are you laughing at?” “I did not mean to laugh. I was wondering to see you so angry.” The girl smiled, quite restored to good humour. “Ah, yes, they used to say that when I was at school. English girls”--with a flash of contempt--“can’t be angry or sorry or happy or anything; they can only eat and drink and sleep and wrangle and giggle.” “You are not English then?” “I English! You did not think I was English the other night?” “No.” “What did you think I was?” “A little fairy princess.” “But when my sleeve caught fire, and you took me in your arms and put it out; you did not think I was a fairy then?” “No,” said Lauriston, stupefied by the daring of her childish coquetry. “Well, what did you think I was then?” “A poor little creature in danger through my blundering.” “And what did you think of me when I said: ‘Away; leave my presence?’” asked she, imitating the stately tone and attitude she had used. “I thought you a very dignified young lady.” “You did not think me unkind?” with anxiety. “Certainly not.” “Oh!” A pause. “I am very glad you did not think me unkind.” She looked down for a few moments, and played with the tiny bow at the top of her injured arm’s silken sling. “You see,” she went on earnestly, “when Rahas came up stairs he said you had flung him on one side, and I said you were perfectly right, and he was then very disagreeable. And Mrs. Ellis, my governess, came in, and they both said they did not believe what you said, and you would never dare to show your face here again. And I said”--the girl drew herself up like a queen as she repeated her own words--“‘Do you think that I, the daughter of an English gentleman, do not know the signs by which to tell an English gentleman?’ He will come back to ask my pardon for the accident, to learn if it was serious. That is what I said,” she continued, dropping her majestic manner, “and so I have watched for you; oh, how I have watched for you! You see, I was anxious, for my credit’s sake, that you should not long delay.” The last words were uttered in a demure tone, an afterthought evidently. “I have been very busy,” murmured Lauriston, trying guiltily to look like a Cabinet minister on the eve of a dissolution. “I really couldn’t get away before.”