So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill. “Why did you do it?” her aunt urged. He took her hands firmly in his and raised them to his lips. He yelled to her, asking her if she wished to have a drink with him, which she refused. She could not part with dignity. The characters of the youthful occupants of the room might be detected in every article it contained. “Of course you don’t. He scratched his upper lip reflectively. She would not be driven in by this persistent, sneaking aggression. But you shall swing, rascal,—you shall swing. A brief calm succeeded. Her efforts were vain.
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