"Well, then, Hermia, I can't agree to it. Do be reasonable. You have the whole world to choose from, and you may rely upon it that in any other connection I will never stand in your way by word or act. But in this I will. Why are you so bent on winning this boy? He isn't wealthy, and never will be, except by his own exertions, i.e. the development of some potential but hitherto undiscovered vein of rascality in his nature. He is much younger than you, too." "So you were careful enough to tell him last night," she flashed. "That was mean of you." "Last night!" echoed the other, for the moment taken aback, for Percival had certainly had no opportunity of communicating with her at all that morning. "Why, yes. I heard you. Remember the `bushcat' that was disturbing the fowls? I was the `bushcat'!" And again she broke into a ringing peal of laughter. "Eh?" "I was the `bushcat,' I tell you," she repeated. "That window of yours is very convenient. I heard every word you said to each other. It was very mean of you, Hilary, to try and set him against me." "Well, if you heard every word, you must admit that I might have set him against you a great deal more than I did. Moreover, Hermia, I believe I was the unconscious means of saving your life by refusing to open the window and let him shoot. So you owe me a little gratitude after all." "No, I don't," came the prompt response. "You don't suppose I'd have waited there to be shot at, do you? Why, directly you touched the window to open it. I'd have made myself scarce. You don't catch this weasel asleep." "Evidently not," he answered dryly. As a matter of fact she had heard very little indeed of their conversation, only a scrap here and there. For the rest, she had been drawing a bow at a venture. "Now, Hermia," he went on, "Let's have the motive--there's always a motive, you know. You can't really care for this youngster--let alone love him--" "Oh, as for love--You know, Hilary, I never loved any one but you--" she broke off, almost passionately--"never--before or since." "Well then, if in that case you couldn't stick to me, how are you going to stick to this one when you don't even love him? You know you never would. And he's got nothing of his own to speak of, and never will have more when you have estranged him from the only relative he has who can help him." "But I needn't estrange him from anybody. Nothing need ever be known." "Let's turn back," said Hilary. "We have gone far enough. And now, Hermia, I'll tell you straight. If you don't give Percy to understand this very morning that you have changed your mind, and will on no account consent to marry him, I shall put him in possession of all the facts concerning ourselves." "You will?" she said. "You will do that?" She had stopped short, and with eyes burning from her pale face, and breast heaving, she stood defiant, facing him, with a very blast of hate and fury in her look.