I want to tell you truths you would rather
be told here than on the high road, where people are passing--or at
Stornham, where the servants would overhear and Rosalie be thrown into
hysterics. You will NOT run screaming across the marsh, because I should
run screaming after you, and we should both look silly. Here is a rather
scraggy tree. Will you sit on the mound near it--for Rosalie's sake?"
"I will not sit down," replied Betty, "but I will listen, because it is
not a bad idea that I should understand you. But to begin with, I will
tell you something." She stopped beneath the tree and stood with her
back against its trunk. "I pick up things by noticing people closely,
and I have realised that all your life you have counted upon getting
your own way because you saw that people--especially women--have a
horror of public scenes, and will submit to almost anything to avoid
them. That is true very often, but not always."
Her eyes, which were well opened, were quite the blue of steel, and
rested directly upon him. "I, for instance, would let you make a scene
with me anywhere you chose--in Bond Street--in Piccadilly--on the steps
of Buckingham Palace, as I was getting out of my carriage to attend a
drawing-room--and you would gain nothing you wanted by it--nothing.
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