"What do you mean--not in that way?" he demanded a little angrily. "Oh, I don't know," she replied, beginning to swing her arms with boredom; "I mean that I hadn't looked upon you as a possible husband, I suppose." He flushed with vexation. "Why not?" he enquired in scolding tones. She glanced into his face for the first time during the interview. She saw the bloated look of mortified vanity in his eyes, and she was a trifle nauseated. "Let's be getting back," she suggested. He turned reluctantly in the direction of the house. "You have not spoken the truth, Leo," he remarked in the tense manner of one who is making a violent effort to moderate his fury. "I'm certainly trying to," she said. "Shall I tell you the truth?" he snarled. "No--please don't!" He was silent for a moment, swallowing down his wrath. "It's that man!" he said at last. "That's who it is. If I had asked you three days ago you would--you would have consented. It's that man!" She cast a glance askance at him. He was boiling with mortification now, and perhaps nothing makes even the noblest features look more mean than the smart of a rebuff. "I'm sure I don't know what you're driving at," she said calmly. He laughed bitterly. But his cheeks were pricking him, and the garden danced before his eyes. "It's Lord Henry, of course," he sneered. "He has conquered your affections meanwhile." "Don't be ridiculous!" she said. "Well, shall I go and tell him for you this minute that you are perfectly indifferent to him?" She made an effort to compose her features. "You can if you like," she replied. "No, that wouldn't suit your little game, would it?" "I have no little game," she snapped. "No, it's big game,--the son of a marquis!" They were at the foot of the terrace. He had succeeded in infuriating her. Her eyes shot fire and she stamped her foot. "That's simply vulgar!" she cried, loud enough for those on the terrace to hear. "You're vulgar!" He retreated hastily to the steps that led to the drawing-room, whence he regarded her with a malevolent scowl. He could have said so much more to her, so many more wounding things. It was intolerable to be called "vulgar," when one had controlled one's wrath as he had done. Meanwhile she, bracing herself for a dignified entree, walked slowly up the steps, and faced the others who were just about to move off to the woods. "Why, I haven't a gun!" she exclaimed, as she joined them. "Here you are!" said Stephen. "I've brought one for you." She smiled gratefully at him. "That was thoughtful of you," she said. And Stephen, feeling somehow that, since her affair with Lord Henry that morning, Leonetta had gone over at one step to that vast majority of worldly females who, in his boyish imagination, appeared to him mistresses of the great secrets of life, blushed slightly and turned his head away. CHAPTER XVIII